Missed Connection
Corner of Sunnybrook & Denson
last Sunday. You: White Tercel, White Tank top.
Me: Black Jeep next to you. We smiled, I kept
wishing I would have said something.
In the rear of any local newspaper or magazine, where the personals section is tapering into the escort ads and phone sex ads, lie the missed connections. Mostly overlooked, this section is quite possibly the most entertaining section of such a periodical. This is the section where a person who missed an opportunity to be flirtatious with another expresses their regret in hopes of getting a foot in the dating door. Most of them sound desperate and eerie; like some guy that was staring at a girl at a stoplight and became obsessed. Others borderline on sweet; such as a person that felt a burst of fondness for another, but couldn't put a voice to it at the time. In both cases, certain shyness is implied, hence implying a sort of innocence as well. Even the creepiest missed connection sounds like it's written by a loyal, lonely person with a slight social ineptitude. And in today's bustling world of over- confident assholes and bratty princesses, a shy and humble soul is a hot commodity. But would the sight of someone else's disparity make the other shun their own disparity, like the same ends of magnets? The curiosity was welling in me.
While reading the paper, I would find myself skimming the personals, just the ad titles, looking for something interesting. Not something, I was looking for, mind you, but something interesting. Something funny or weird. A jumble of words that stood out from the wallpaper of needy, desperate people.
Men Seeking Men
Salty Old Sea Captain Seeks
Young Sailor to Swab the
Poop Decks and Sail the Seas.
Men Seeking Women
Black African Warrior
Seeks Nubian Princess to
Fight the Good Fight.
These always make me laugh. They make me feel better about myself. It's comforting to know there are people out there just slightly more desperate than you. They're desperate enough to print up the fact that they're a loser and distribute it amongst the locale. I, on the other hand, was only desperate enough to read it.
Everyone is desperate, everyone is lonely. I'm convinced of this. Happiness is a mask that hides our fear. We're all scheming with ulterior motives and hidden agendas. Of course, when I first thought this, my inclination was to think that this was just a projection of me upon my peers. Then I just took a look around.
A good friend of mine, Gabe, works at a video store. He's good looking enough and can carry a conversation. That's all he needs. He can build a dossier on a chick by pulling up her rental history.
"See here," Gabe points to a long list of films including every cinematic rendition of every Bronte novel and similar period piece, "Chick flicks. She's a thinker, maybe even a dike. Probably likes to sit around watching this sappy-ass shit in a rocking chair, sipping herbal tea, petting her cat."
"Nah.", I shook my head.
"What do you mean; this shit practically spells it out for you!"
"She's not a lesbian. These selections are too traditional; no gay films, documentaries, nothing askew. She's a purist, but lonely. She's definitely by herself; she's not renting for anyone else. I sat back, proud of my analytical prowess.
"Damn, man. That's some crazy Sherlock Holmes shit, but I think you're right!"
"Eh, I watched a lot of private dick shows", I said modestly.
"You watch gay porn!?!?"
Two weeks later, Gabe is coming up to me and going on and on about how he hooked up with the lesbian-Bronte-chick. He was waiting for her with a copy of Wuthering Heights at the counter of the video store. I had recommended some Sylvia Plath but he insisted on not getting to deep with some sad, crazy chick that pops psych meds like pez. So, he's sitting there with the book all marked up with post- its sticking out of various points in the book, looking totally entranced when she walks up to the counter.
"Oh, hi, how's it going? Gabe feigns his preoccupation.
"Well, thank you. Reading Bronte? She cocks her head sideways so she can read the title of the book as she sets her movies on the counter.
She's renting Hilary & Jackie, The English Patient, and Emma for the third time. She's an old-looking young woman. Probably the type of girl that loved to balance her checkbook in high school. Her efficient, black-rimmed glasses make her look studious and stoic, her pursed lips and stiff posture denote her prudish inclinations.
"What? Oh, yeah, I'm taking a classic women's lit. Class at State. Gabe outright lies.
"Really? So what else are you reading? she sounded almost excited.
"Um, well, this is the first thing. I'm really into it... he's fumbling...
"Yeah, but what else is on the syllabus? Who's your professor? I graduated from State with a degree in Classic Feminist Literature and it's modern day applications two years ago! she was now definitely excited. And Gabe was fucked.
"Uh, Sylvia Plath... Gabe was flustered at the barrage of questions and his mind was totally blank.
"Plath? Hmpf. That's odd... she seemed to be questioning the whole scenario, Whod you say your professor was?"
"Johnson... it almost sounded like a question out of Gabe's stuttering lips.
"Johnston, with a T?"
"Uh, yeah, John-STON", he was actually sweating at this point.
"I thought Johnston left last year to teach at Upton?"
Although he thought himself totally fucked at this point, he proceeded to tell me about how he actually pulled it off and slept with the girl. He convinced her that it was a new Johnston at the school and she had yet to show and the class was being carelessly watched over by T.A.'s and Grad. Students. He then cajoled her into "tutoring" him at some later point that ended up being after a few drinks later that night after work. He patiently nodded to everything she said and was careful to memorize her points, so that he could bring them up at appropriate points later in the night. It was like studying for an exam, because that was what she was like. Her personality, that is, like a test. She wanted to be smart, play school, so to speak. And he was the teacher's pet. He still couldn't understand why all that women's liberal literature bullshit got her all hot and wound up, but he didn't care. She was desperate for the sex and companionship and he was willing to pay attention and oblige. It seemed like a fair relationship to me.
Women Seeking Men
Single Mother, Christian
seeks LTR with Man of Similar Nature
We all need mates. It's natural and we simply preoccupy ourselves until it's mating season. Only thing is, it's always mating season. That's why we flirt at work or combine going out with hooking up. That's why it's a fact that a woman can decide if she's having sex that night when she puts on her underwear. When I'm wearing my tighty whities for the second or third day in a row, it's the last thing I think about when I go out. A woman on the other hand has a tendency to have sexy and matching underwear on when she goes out. I can imagine a bunch of ladies hearing that and claiming that women just dress better than men. I'd believe that if I hadn't seen a woman that I know had some type of sexy undies, wearing some granny britches that went halfway up her torso.
The entire bar scene is a physical metaphor for the mating grounds. Females line the room and men prance around making asses of themselves, strutting their feathers, until they manage to entice a willing mate. They use cologne, money, intoxicants, and lies to snare a mate. Women just have to get drunk enough to choose which male annoys her least. There's always a person drunk enough to think some asshole's antics have become cute. I know because my friends are that asshole, I've been that asshole, and chances are we've all been that asshole, we just don't want to admit it.
I had admitted it to myself. I faced the ugly monster and decided it wasn't so ugly. So what if we had to come up with petty excuses to mate. Sex was essential and I became willing to do whatever it took to get it willingly and legally with as little money as possible.
"You should get a job at the coffeehouse. Trey smirked and nudged Matt.
Corner of Sunnybrook & Denson
last Sunday. You: White Tercel, White Tank top.
Me: Black Jeep next to you. We smiled, I kept
wishing I would have said something.
In the rear of any local newspaper or magazine, where the personals section is tapering into the escort ads and phone sex ads, lie the missed connections. Mostly overlooked, this section is quite possibly the most entertaining section of such a periodical. This is the section where a person who missed an opportunity to be flirtatious with another expresses their regret in hopes of getting a foot in the dating door. Most of them sound desperate and eerie; like some guy that was staring at a girl at a stoplight and became obsessed. Others borderline on sweet; such as a person that felt a burst of fondness for another, but couldn't put a voice to it at the time. In both cases, certain shyness is implied, hence implying a sort of innocence as well. Even the creepiest missed connection sounds like it's written by a loyal, lonely person with a slight social ineptitude. And in today's bustling world of over- confident assholes and bratty princesses, a shy and humble soul is a hot commodity. But would the sight of someone else's disparity make the other shun their own disparity, like the same ends of magnets? The curiosity was welling in me.
While reading the paper, I would find myself skimming the personals, just the ad titles, looking for something interesting. Not something, I was looking for, mind you, but something interesting. Something funny or weird. A jumble of words that stood out from the wallpaper of needy, desperate people.
Men Seeking Men
Salty Old Sea Captain Seeks
Young Sailor to Swab the
Poop Decks and Sail the Seas.
Men Seeking Women
Black African Warrior
Seeks Nubian Princess to
Fight the Good Fight.
These always make me laugh. They make me feel better about myself. It's comforting to know there are people out there just slightly more desperate than you. They're desperate enough to print up the fact that they're a loser and distribute it amongst the locale. I, on the other hand, was only desperate enough to read it.
Everyone is desperate, everyone is lonely. I'm convinced of this. Happiness is a mask that hides our fear. We're all scheming with ulterior motives and hidden agendas. Of course, when I first thought this, my inclination was to think that this was just a projection of me upon my peers. Then I just took a look around.
A good friend of mine, Gabe, works at a video store. He's good looking enough and can carry a conversation. That's all he needs. He can build a dossier on a chick by pulling up her rental history.
"See here," Gabe points to a long list of films including every cinematic rendition of every Bronte novel and similar period piece, "Chick flicks. She's a thinker, maybe even a dike. Probably likes to sit around watching this sappy-ass shit in a rocking chair, sipping herbal tea, petting her cat."
"Nah.", I shook my head.
"What do you mean; this shit practically spells it out for you!"
"She's not a lesbian. These selections are too traditional; no gay films, documentaries, nothing askew. She's a purist, but lonely. She's definitely by herself; she's not renting for anyone else. I sat back, proud of my analytical prowess.
"Damn, man. That's some crazy Sherlock Holmes shit, but I think you're right!"
"Eh, I watched a lot of private dick shows", I said modestly.
"You watch gay porn!?!?"
Two weeks later, Gabe is coming up to me and going on and on about how he hooked up with the lesbian-Bronte-chick. He was waiting for her with a copy of Wuthering Heights at the counter of the video store. I had recommended some Sylvia Plath but he insisted on not getting to deep with some sad, crazy chick that pops psych meds like pez. So, he's sitting there with the book all marked up with post- its sticking out of various points in the book, looking totally entranced when she walks up to the counter.
"Oh, hi, how's it going? Gabe feigns his preoccupation.
"Well, thank you. Reading Bronte? She cocks her head sideways so she can read the title of the book as she sets her movies on the counter.
She's renting Hilary & Jackie, The English Patient, and Emma for the third time. She's an old-looking young woman. Probably the type of girl that loved to balance her checkbook in high school. Her efficient, black-rimmed glasses make her look studious and stoic, her pursed lips and stiff posture denote her prudish inclinations.
"What? Oh, yeah, I'm taking a classic women's lit. Class at State. Gabe outright lies.
"Really? So what else are you reading? she sounded almost excited.
"Um, well, this is the first thing. I'm really into it... he's fumbling...
"Yeah, but what else is on the syllabus? Who's your professor? I graduated from State with a degree in Classic Feminist Literature and it's modern day applications two years ago! she was now definitely excited. And Gabe was fucked.
"Uh, Sylvia Plath... Gabe was flustered at the barrage of questions and his mind was totally blank.
"Plath? Hmpf. That's odd... she seemed to be questioning the whole scenario, Whod you say your professor was?"
"Johnson... it almost sounded like a question out of Gabe's stuttering lips.
"Johnston, with a T?"
"Uh, yeah, John-STON", he was actually sweating at this point.
"I thought Johnston left last year to teach at Upton?"
Although he thought himself totally fucked at this point, he proceeded to tell me about how he actually pulled it off and slept with the girl. He convinced her that it was a new Johnston at the school and she had yet to show and the class was being carelessly watched over by T.A.'s and Grad. Students. He then cajoled her into "tutoring" him at some later point that ended up being after a few drinks later that night after work. He patiently nodded to everything she said and was careful to memorize her points, so that he could bring them up at appropriate points later in the night. It was like studying for an exam, because that was what she was like. Her personality, that is, like a test. She wanted to be smart, play school, so to speak. And he was the teacher's pet. He still couldn't understand why all that women's liberal literature bullshit got her all hot and wound up, but he didn't care. She was desperate for the sex and companionship and he was willing to pay attention and oblige. It seemed like a fair relationship to me.
Women Seeking Men
Single Mother, Christian
seeks LTR with Man of Similar Nature
We all need mates. It's natural and we simply preoccupy ourselves until it's mating season. Only thing is, it's always mating season. That's why we flirt at work or combine going out with hooking up. That's why it's a fact that a woman can decide if she's having sex that night when she puts on her underwear. When I'm wearing my tighty whities for the second or third day in a row, it's the last thing I think about when I go out. A woman on the other hand has a tendency to have sexy and matching underwear on when she goes out. I can imagine a bunch of ladies hearing that and claiming that women just dress better than men. I'd believe that if I hadn't seen a woman that I know had some type of sexy undies, wearing some granny britches that went halfway up her torso.
The entire bar scene is a physical metaphor for the mating grounds. Females line the room and men prance around making asses of themselves, strutting their feathers, until they manage to entice a willing mate. They use cologne, money, intoxicants, and lies to snare a mate. Women just have to get drunk enough to choose which male annoys her least. There's always a person drunk enough to think some asshole's antics have become cute. I know because my friends are that asshole, I've been that asshole, and chances are we've all been that asshole, we just don't want to admit it.
I had admitted it to myself. I faced the ugly monster and decided it wasn't so ugly. So what if we had to come up with petty excuses to mate. Sex was essential and I became willing to do whatever it took to get it willingly and legally with as little money as possible.
"You should get a job at the coffeehouse. Trey smirked and nudged Matt.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
alisa:
right back at you
_6deana9_:
.hi sweetie.* 