Missed Connections

When we were in school together, Lisa, Gaby and I would always look forward to Thursday when the new edition of LA Weekly would come out so we could read "Missed Connections" together. You know, that section in the personals ads in newspapers or on craigslist where people post about a moment they thought they had with someone (anywhere from a single exchanged glance to a drunken conversation at a bar) and are hoping beyond chance that the person might happen to read the same post and reply to the psychotic ramblings of a stranger.

Gaby was a hardcore romantic so I suppose she would disagree with my "psychotic ramblings" characterization - she wanted photobooth pictures, glittery hearts, and endless Valentine's Days - stuff I didn't really think much about. It was 1999 - I was 19 and incredibly... skeptical and viciously sarcastic. Lisa was sanely somewhere between the two of us. But something about "Missed Connections" brought us all together. That and the roach coach parked outside of the fashion building near Grand and Washington where we would have lunch four days a week (except for that time Lisa and I split a 20 piece chicken mcnugget bin when McDonald's had that special and we both felt really sick and thirsty afterwards).

So I have to admit I check out the Missed Connections every once in awhile on craigslist just to see what the strange folk are still posting. This one was posted on November 15 in Champaign-Urbana:

You stopped me on the street tonight and made me feel pretty - w4m

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Reply to: pers-235087192@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-11-15, 1:48AM CST

I was walking down the street and you told me I was gorgeous. I was wearing glasses and green sweater. I had to rush off and meet someone...but I wish I had stayed to talk with you. I promised to look you up on facebook, but I can't remember your name.

You said you loved the size of my body, but I don't even know if you visit this site. I wish I could get to know you better.
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Okay - how sweetly sad is this post? I can't even make fun of it, it just hurts me too much to read. I can just picture her, frantically searching through facebook profile after facebook profile hoping to find the guy who told her he "loved the size" of her body.

This one, on the other hand, I can make fun of:

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Reply to: pers-235871125@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-11-16, 4:54PM CST

i was chainsmoking rollies and talking to my so-called friend (j/k, no, really) about the everyday benefits of space suits. (she was looking ernest and unimpressed.) later, the guy next to me struck up a conversation about pigs as a centuries-old religious motif/metaphor. you looked nervous as hell.
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Okay hipster. Is it just me, or is he not painfully aware that every female in his life is either unimpressed or "nervous as hell" to be near his chainsmoking, hipster existence? Okay, wait. Now I'm feeling all sad about this one too. Is there just something about the genre that is so painfully awkward because these people are completely (okay okay, I guess they're anonymous, but still) ripping themselves open over someone they saw for a few seconds? Maybe I should call Gaby and ask her what she thinks. She'll tell me all about love at first sight and then tell me to watch Love Story or something... sigh. I can't wait to see her and Lisa later this month :)