If you’ve visited the website Craigslist.org, perhaps you have stumbled upon Missed Connections, an online bulletin board where people post messages for strangers who have caught their eye in passing: dog walkers, subway riders, coffee-shop patrons. The hope of the smitten message writer is that the object of his or her desire will, against the odds, see the post and respond. The short story “Brightest Corners” is written in the form of these electronic messages in bottles.

The heading of each post usually includes the age of the person writing it and the abbreviation “w4m,” “m4w,” “w4w,” or “m4m” to indicate the writer’s gender — “m” for man or “w” for woman — and the gender of the person he or she is looking “4.”

— Ed.

I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 4:12 PM EST

I met you at Ikea. We were both looking for comforters. I’d seen you in Kitchens and then again in Rugs. I tried not to make eye contact too many times because I didn’t want you to think I was following you. I wasn’t. It’s just that there’s a path everyone has to follow through the showroom — you know, guiding us all through the natural progression of home furnishings — and I just happened to be a few paces behind you. One time we locked eyes and I smiled, hoping to give off a this-is-an-accident vibe, isn’t-it-funny? You seemed to return the feeling.

I don’t know if you slowed down on purpose or not, but we both ended up paused near a deep cobalt blue bed set, TANJA BODYR. I wrote down the name, the row and shelf number — row 57, shelf 17 — so I could pick it up in the warehouse if I wanted to. It was rough silk, not shiny but with a sheen, and it was displayed with dark brown sheets. I thought it looked grown-up. And okay, I’ll be honest, the slight slipperiness of the fabric made me envision throwing you down on that bed and fucking you, sliding along its surface, grinding into it, staining the gleam of that pure cloth, which, if I bought it, would be the finest thing I owned. You were that gorgeous.

  • Location: Ikea
  • ​it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I should have done something differently—m4w—34

Reply to: anon-09854302@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 4:42 PM EST

My friends told me about Missed Connections when I told them what a coward I was yesterday. All I can hope is that you felt the spark too and will look for me here.

We were both shopping at the Whole Foods near Columbus Circle. You had this incredible blonde hair. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Something about you was amazing.

I don’t know why I couldn’t talk to you. I should have asked you out for a drink.

Write me, and we will.

You know who I am.

  • Location: Columbus Circle
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
To the emosexual on the L train last night—w4m—23

Reply to: anon-76945390@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 5:02 PM EST

You were heading into Brooklyn. You were carrying a guitar case, weighed 89 pounds, no muscle tone or body fat, had an ironic haircut, and looked like something 1979 shitted out. I love you and want to have your baby.

We both got off at Bedford Ave. Please write me.

  • Location: Billyburg
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 5:12 PM EST

Me again.

I’m hoping that if I stretch my story out, there’s a greater chance that you will see at least one of my postings.

“Do you like it?” I asked, fingering the fabric.

“It might look a little silly next to my Ramones posters and record covers up on the walls,” you said.

“You haven’t grown up yet?”

“I’m wondering if I want to.”

“Me too,” I said. “So do you want to play house?” I asked. “Help each other pick out furnishings? Just pretend.” I’m never so bold. You smiled right at me and agreed.

You said you live in a one-bedroom in Williamsburg. That’s right in the center of too-cool-for-school land, where the hipsters are so fashionable they hurt the eyes and are embarrassing to look at. Skinny jeans and sneakers from the 80s, mismatched colors in a pattern of rightness I just can’t discern. But you didn’t look like that. I live in a studio in Bensonhurst, nowhere near you, might as well be another city. My only room with a door that shuts is the bathroom. Both of us at the new Ikea in Brooklyn, pretending we could pay for delivery. We began.

We used the bedding we both loved as a basis, shaped our decor around that. We agreed that as far as furniture went, HEMNES was the best. Those Scandinavians seem to like their wood primarily light blonde, but we preferred the dark solidity of HEMNES, its deep black-brown color. Like espresso. A bed frame, night table, wardrobe, bookshelf, and storage bench for each of us — different sizes to fit the different dimensions of our rooms. You have a double bed, I just have a single. I envisioned mostly staying at your place.

We decided the room needed a little levity then, so we added a brightly patterned sofa, KARLSTAD in HEDVIG. Then a POÄNG chair in ULLEVI ORANGE, which we both agreed was more like saffron. With the wild chairs we decided to keep the curtains simple, so we got STÅLIS BLUE for near the bed, SKUGGIG BROWN for the living area. All we had left was lighting. I was so delighted when you liked the plastic tulip-looking lamps as much as I did, so for each of us a KNAPPA KLÖVER to hang from the ceiling, a tall KNAPPA TULPAN floor lamp, and a small KNAPPA TULPAN for the end table.

Next Kitchens and Bathrooms, both so small we didn’t need much, but we wanted dishes, dish drains, silverware, glasses, shower curtains, shower caddies, towels, washcloths, dish towels to complete the designed look. We picked out GRÖNÖ chinaware in all different shades of purple — lilac, lavender, fuchsia, royal, plum, eggplant, some solid, some patterned — to bring a new tone into the color scheme. Plain utensils and stemware. The bathroom should be green, we decided; we picked the JÄNSJÖ set for its stripes and solids, a calm stillness against the rest of the patterns.

I wrote everything down as if we were both really going to buy it all. I was amazed at how game you were, how willing to play.

After the spaces we inhabit were full, we turned to each other, a little amazed at our creation. “Hi,” I said, “I’m Elliot.” And you didn’t tell me it was a man’s name, you just shook my hand — I shake hands like a man, I know — and told me you were Gil. I guess that’s how you spell it, but when you said it, I looked over your shoulder out the wall of windows to the edge of the sea bumping up against Red Hook and thought of gills, imagined us jumping into the freezing-cold water and just swimming away, across to Europe or Africa or Connecticut, whatever it is that’s out from this bay. Why didn’t I ask your last name?

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
A suggestion . . .

Reply to: anon-19482910@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 5:41 PM EST

Do you think more of these pretty ladies who brighten these men’s days (and vice versa) would respond to the posts meant for them if you offered them something more original than a drink?

Like, “I saw you crossing the street at 5th and 19th. You were wearing a tweed jacket and carrying a blue bag. You are so beautiful, let me buy you . . .”

An apple cider? A carriage ride in the park? A frisbee? A bag of chips?

Just a thought.

(Though, if someone wrote to me here, I would settle for a drink, because at least they noticed me amongst the masses, and that would make me feel special.)

  • Location: consider it
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 6:12 PM EST

We stood there, the list to create our ideal living spaces between us.

“I really can’t buy any of that stuff,” you said.

“Me either.”

“I do need a new bedspread, but that one doesn’t match anything I own. I mostly just came here because I was curious. I’ve never been to an Ikea.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want to get lunch? I hear they’ve got great meatballs.”

We went through the cafeteria line together, picking things to share. Meatballs and lingonberries, smoked salmon with dill sauce, open-faced shrimp sandwich with sliced egg and tomato. We got two beers, even though it was just 1:00 on a Tuesday. Carlsberg. Scandinavian. I wondered when I was supposed to ask you for your phone number, hoped you’d ask me and save me from making the move, then panicked — someone as beautiful as you would never ask a girl like me for anything.

We sat under dozens of KNAPPA lights just like the ones we’d selected for our homes, and from the windows we could see the Statue of Liberty, the burnt-out factories of Red Hook, the sea. The sun through the clouds did unurban things to the light; I felt like I could step out into fields.

The best of Brooklyn was all around us: veiled Muslim women; Hasidic Jews in black and white, the women with their hair wrapped and clavicles covered; yuppies from Park Slope with their strollers; hipsters from your hood out to furnish their lofts; black people eating Scandinavian food all around us. And I felt patriotic, not for my country, but for my borough. I said to you, “I love Brooklyn,” hoping you’d see what I saw, and you said, “Me too,” and I took that to mean that you did.

We ate from each other’s plates, said the food was delicious, and it was so erotic being there with you, sharing tastes, sights. I set my fork down on the table so that its tip touched yours, and you moved yours so that our tines intertwined, and damn, that was sexy. The light flaming around, the banter that made us both feel clever, the images of beds lingering in both our memories — it was like the best first date I could imagine. Hell, I’d have gone to the bathroom with you, done you right there in the stall. I felt brave, like anything we did would be right.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Yo, Sean, I Really Miss U—w4m—22

Reply to: anon-12398095@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 6:48 PM EST

U told me not 2 call anymore and I erased ur # from my phone so I wouldn’t b tempted 2 so I’m writing u here bcuz I don’t know what else 2 do. I know u don’t read Missed Connections, but I wish u would c this. I want 2 b w/ u so badly, I think we r dope as hell 2gether — I have never been as comfortable w/ any1, had as much fun w/ any1, been as silly w/ any1, or had as much in common w/ any1, not 2 mention the really dope sex. I know u think u were the only 1 freakin out in ur head, but my head was freakin out all the time 2 — relationships r scary as hell 4 every1. I did not believe I was capable whatsoever of being in a relationship and u taught me that I can and want 2 b in a relationship even though it is completely scary and hard and my head freaks out — the bad parts like that always come w/ the good, but w/out the bad or sad parts, I wouldn’t know the meaning of happy, and being with u, I really felt so happy that it made my head freakin out worth it 2 me. U taught me I can love some1 and am completely capable of loving some1 and I will always thank u for that. I think we r dope as hell as a “we,” but since it can’t b, I reiterate what I have said 2 u 2x b4: when it comes down 2 it, 4getting myself and anything else, I love u and want u 2 b happy w/ or w/out me. So I will leave u alone and try not 2 be petrified 2 c u around bcuz that’s when it really hurts. Take care of urself, seriously.

  • Location: the Bronx
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 7:12 PM EST

When the food was finished, we both noticed the sign asking us to clean up after ourselves, explaining that this helps keep the food inexpensive, because they don’t have to pay people to pick up our trash. I liked these signs that explained things, like the one that clarified why Ikea furniture needs to be assembled — if you do it yourself, you don’t have to pay the cost of having the factory do it for you, and furniture is more easily stored and shipped in flat boxes, so everybody wins. Without saying anything we worked together to clear our trays. I asked if you wanted to buy anything, and you said you really liked the lamps we’d picked out. You got one for the ceiling. I wanted that one too, but I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to install it, so I got one for the tabletop. We went through the line together, and I didn’t think to look on your credit card for your last name.

Once we were in the parking lot, the light still gorgeous and burrowing gently into our skin, we looked to the line of shuttle buses.

“I’m going to Borough Hall,” I said.

“I need the Smith Street bus,” you said.

We looked at each other. We smiled. I wanted to ask if I could see you again. I figured this was the moment you were supposed to ask for my number, but neither of us said anything, not even, “I had a nice time.” We just turned and walked our separate ways, holding our matching lamps. Your bus pulled away first, and though I strained to see you through the window, I couldn’t.

I knew I had made a terrible mistake not asking for a way to reach you, to let you reach me again.

So this is how I’m trying.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I saw you today . . .

Reply to: anon-90345235@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 7:39 PM EST

. . . and it answered the question I’ve always asked myself of what I would do.

I always thought, when I saw you, that I’d be one or more of the following: graceful, charming, insouciant, violent, mortified, surprised, brazen, nonchalant, vitriolic.

Instead I grew legs that didn’t feel like my own, and off I went. I ran like hell. Quite literally. I didn’t punch you in the chest and break your sternum. I didn’t spit in your face. I didn’t smile, strong and unfazed. I didn’t ignore you and keep walking. I ran.

Now I know.

  • Location: Tribeca
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 8:12 PM EST

For anyone else who is reading this, he wasn’t the stereotype you’re imagining. He wasn’t as typical as you’d think. He wasn’t a cartoon. He looked like he didn’t know how smokin’ hot he was, or if he knew, he didn’t care, and that was the great thing about him.

I could have made my posting quick and simple:

You — Looking for bedding at Ikea. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Curly dark hair, shiny eyes, I have no idea what color. Friendly, alive smile, body language that said you were listening, listening, listening.

Me — Long reddish-brown hair, tangled. Not good at making eye contact. I have greenish eyes but I don’t know if you noticed that. I talked a lot. More than you. I may have seemed nervous. I was.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
We were both headed to the Bronx—w4m—28

Reply to: anon-42896540@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 8:46 PM EST

Man, I’ve never seen anyone like you. Your dreads were red, and I don’t think you dyed them. Your skin was creamed-coffee colored, but you had these freckles all over, and green eyes. Green eyes. On a black man. I bet your whole life kids told you you were ugly or a freak. And now you hit your midtwenties and you are gorgeous. You must be some kinda halfie — Jamaican and Irish? African and Midwestern? I do not know, but I bless the parents that made you. Maybe you get this all the time now — fly sisters telling you you are fine, just fine. But maybe being the funny-looking kid at school all those years has stuck with you. Maybe you still don’t know your goodness.

Who am I? Which girl from the 2 train would be writing this? The blonde with the long locks, the same blood running way back? Or a halfie who’s been funny all her life — Indian and Korean? Japanese and Polish? Or the Chinese chick from an ancient dynasty? Which girl looked at you and saw perfection?

So here’s what I have to say — write me and you will never again not know how beautiful you are. I see you. I will show you.

  • Location: the 2 train
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 9:12 PM EST

What the fuck was I thinking? I didn’t ask you for your name and phone number. I didn’t give you mine. I didn’t ask if I could see you again. I got embarrassed and awkward and I let you walk away.

I have no idea how that happened. In the light of day, was I not pretty enough for you? I still have bad skin, I know. I was just in jeans and a tank top. I wasn’t intending to look my best, but I clean up alright, I swear. Do you have a girlfriend? When we were furnishing all your rooms, you could have easily dropped in a “My girlfriend would love this,” couldn’t you?

I don’t have a boyfriend. I want one pretty badly. You seemed like you would be a good one.

Did we just get shy? Was the connection so intense we both didn’t want to admit it, in case the other person didn’t feel it? Did we not want to take it further for fear of ruining it? How do I ever make up for this?

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
missed connection with your soul—m4m—24

Reply to: anon-19201834@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 9:17 PM EST

the most intense moment I ever had as you sat across from me and gazed into my eyes as if you knew me for thousands of years causing me to quiver like a child never had I felt this way the rush was overwhelming as you reached your destination I noticed a tear flowing down your face as you left I knew we were never meant to speak in this lifetime but it was by chance that we saw each other perhaps a connection a love that happened thousands of years ago

  • Location: my soul
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 9:22 PM EST

Seriously, what is wrong with you people? STOP WRITING ME BACK!!! (Unless you are Gil, of course of course.) All you schmucks, putzes, perverts, freaks, and assholes, knock it off. I’M NOT TRYING TO FIND YOU! I’m trying to find him, only him. This is not my attempt to get a date. Please please please knock it off.

And yes, I have figured out by now that to get to Bensonhurst I could have ridden the shuttle bus to Smith Street, taken the F, and walked. Yes, I know. I’m aware it was stupid to go back the way I came, the bus to Borough Hall, the 2/3 to Atlantic, change to the M. I could have spent twenty more minutes with him. Of course I know that by now. You telling me doesn’t help.

Fuck all of you who are out there reading this who aren’t Gil and whose business this is none of. I’m not your soap opera. Go away.

You are out there somewhere, Gil, and so I am sending this out. If it reaches you, I am meant to throw away what I have, move into your apartment, decorate it with you, start a new life. Everyone wants this. Everyone wants to throw away what they have, run into mystery. Everyone wants to but nobody does. That is why so many people post their wishes on this site. It is easier to send out a message in a bottle than to tell someone, “Run away with me,” to their face. That’s what I should have done.

No one runs away together. Ever. Let’s be different.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
everyone here wants something

Reply to: anon-99999999@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 9:33 PM EST

Are you READY to give her what she’s ALWAYS WANTED, but was too afraid to ask for?

Are you READY to increase your SIZE by up to 75%?!?!? Even 100%?!?!!!!

Are you READY to finally have the WIDTH and GIRTH and LENGTH you’ve ALWAYS wanted?

Risk-free thirty-day trial size available FREE!!! There’s no reason not to start today.

SHE’LL THANK YOU!

  • Location: your desire
  • it is ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I lied—w4m—27

Reply to: anon-58906734@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 9:49 PM EST

Last night was incredible. I wrote you and said, “That was me!” that you saw the other night coming home on the train. We met at your favorite local bar and partied and you took me home and the sex was fantastic. All night you kept saying, “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it’s you! I can’t believe you saw my post!!” You just kept touching my hair.

But I lied. I dyed my hair black just for the occasion. I’m a light brunette, and you didn’t even notice that I wasn’t your dark-haired fantasy from the 4 train.

It was so easy.

  • Location: the East Village
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:12 PM EST

A storm has blown in. Thunder is setting off car alarms. I wonder if the wind will break my window. It’s been years since I’ve walked in the rain.

I bet most people are inside now, some maybe not even noticing this storm, but I want to be walking with you on a beach, Gil, wind and rain driving sand into our skin, us the tallest things for miles around. I want to walk out into the waves, let them rock and smack us, lift and lower us. I want to dance in the ocean up to our shoulders. I want to swim safely at sea with you in this weather, the sky cracking overhead. Take you home, towel you off, lay you down on new sheets, get sand in the bed to remind us.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Temptation—m4w—23

Reply to: anon-88203333@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:28 PM EST

(I miss the girl in this story of mine.)

I moved to Greenpoint last night, dropped my stuff in my new room, and went roaming around Bedford, just diggin the scene. Long story short, I got drunk at a bar, went home with a girl.

So her apartment was like something out of my dreams. She had a potter’s wheel, turntables, a whole wall full of records, a huge half-painted canvas of some eclecticism-styled flying trees, and she went into the kitchen to shake me up a Manhattan. I can’t explain how small I felt in the presence of her greatness. She handed me some of her short stories to read, sort of sat, sort of leaned next to me while I read, and then bam, she hit me with, “Do you want to do a square of Diesel?”

I cursed God at that point. In case you don’t know, “do a square” means to snort, and Diesel is China-white heroin, the best there is. Dealers don’t cut it because it has a very distinctive taste. Expensive, hard to get, and pure. A trifecta that renders my willpower impotent.

“Oh, just one more time,” I thought. Every good and bad feeling I’ve ever had rushed through me. I asked where the bathroom was, left the drugs with her, walked into the little room, closed the door, and looked into the mirror. Sex on H is amazing. I knew I had to leave immediately.

My sponsor told me this would happen. “Temptation comes from the brightest corners and at the most unexpected times,” he said. I washed my hands and face in cold water and flushed the toilet to make it appear like a genuine bathroom visit. I walked out of the bathroom, said I had to go. She scrambled her sorrys and for the first time in my life I meant it when I said, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

On the way home I cried. Temptation is an evil motherfucker that knows exactly what cards to deal: perfect apartment, perfect hot and horny girl, perfect music, perfect art, perfect time, perfect beginning, perfect drug. All designed to get me to slide back down the spiral.

  • Location: impossibility
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Yes, I am a gay man, but it felt so good to get cruised by a hot lady! Thank you!!!

Reply to: anon-71439839@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:36 PM EST

I was walking south on 10th and caught your eye and your smile. We even both turned around after we passed for another look! With all the messed-up experiences I’ve had with gay men in this town, I thought, HMMMMM!!! You made my day!

  • Location: Chelsea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:48 PM EST

You’re never going to see this, are you, Gil? I’m being foolish, aren’t I, trusting fate too much? All of you out there who are reading this, this public posting I’ve laid out for all eyes to see, you are all sad for me, aren’t you? Sad for my desperation, embarrassed for me and my sureness that someone I was with for an hour and a half . . . matters.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:50 PM EST

Or maybe you’ve read this already, Gil. Maybe you’ve read each of my nine postings, and maybe you’re embarrassed for me. Embarrassed because I’m sure about the first thing in my life for a very long time. I’m sure that I want to see you again, that I need to, that you could change everything. I’m sure. And you don’t feel the same at all, do you? You’ve read all of this, you are reading one of my postings right now as I write this new one, and you are choosing not to write back. During that hour and a half, you didn’t feel a thing. You must do stuff like that all the time. You don’t want to find me, do you? Even though I’m right here, sending out beams of light, trying to guide you to me.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:51 PM EST

When you’re in those hip Williamsburg bars, you won’t look into the crowd, searching for my face. Lots of girls look like me. Maybe you don’t even remember what I look like.

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I met you at Ikea—w4m—26

Reply to: anon-2012123@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 10:53 PM EST

Why am I telling you people this?

  • Location: Ikea
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
just ask—w4w—28

Reply to: anon-10489192@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 11:03 PM EST

you will probably never read this, but i need to post it. i cannot stop thinking about you. as much as we pretend to be friends, we will never be friends because we both know that underneath it all lie things that we can never forget and feelings that we can never lose. and as long as i see you every day our time together plays over and over in my head making it harder and harder for me to do anything that requires thought or action unless it involves you. maybe you will never know how much you are a part of me. maybe you’ve known all along. i would leave my life for you if you asked me to. just ask me to.

  • Location: wishing on a star
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
To all of you . . .

Reply to: anon-04562937@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 11:11 PM EST

. . . and your inane, clumsy, middle-class love drivel: Ughhh.

  • Location: everywhere
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I think I’m giving up

Reply to: anon-02030405@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 11:34 PM EST

As much as I loooove Missed Connections, as much as the cheeseball romantic within me would like to continue believing there’s someone out there looking for me as I’m looking for her — I’m just tired of it, tired of it all . . . She doesn’t exist . . . and if she does, she’s not here. I’ll tell you where she’s at, she’s with that smooth-talking, sly, charismatic egomaniac who’s only bent on earning another hash mark on his bedpost. She’s asking herself why she got sooooo drunk last night and hooked up with some random guy — wondering if this one will call, cuz he was sooooo much nicer than the rest . . . She didn’t even see me watching from my bar stool in the corner, the guy who might not look quite as dreamy as the other guys but will treat her right, and it’s the same story, hon . . . If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you’ve always gotten . . .

  • Location: everywhere
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
I was lost—w4m—30

Reply to: anon-88776290@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-08-05, 11:48 PM EST

And you gave me directions to the Greenwood Cemetery earlier today.

It was on Dikeman Avenue or Wolcott Road or something. I can’t remember the names, but I was on the right road, just heading in the wrong direction.

You were holding a red gas can.

You had the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.

Please find a way to find me.

  • Location: Red Hook
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests