Ships that Pass

Stories like that don’t happen, though, do they? / m4w / 28 (Union Square)

This Missed Connection was inspired by Sophie Blackall’s lovely new book, Missed Connections: Love, Lost and Found.

I don’t know where to begin. I want to say it was magic. I want to say you were in a bear costume or were on a bike shaped like a swan. If I close my eyes, I can almost see that—as if someone has illustrated just that scene. Stories like that don’t happen, though, do they?

Tell me they do.

I’m no different from anyone else. I look here daily. I look here to kill time at work. I look to imagine the scenarios and moments of others. I also look for someone looking for me, though secretly I don’t believe I will find myself, and also I hold the belief that once you have found your missed connection, it is all downhill from there. I want to find faith in others looking for each other—and not just the “you bought me and my friends a drink at an anonymous bar” types, but, you know, something a little more romantic, or something uncanny in how, in a city of millions of characters, there is bound to be a story starting somewhere.

Tell me there is.

                                                           via Brett Fletcher Lauer

Actual Responses to the Ad: 

I look everyday, wondering if someone feels like I got away :) Oh well…we can’t all be the “cute hipster girl reading pride and prejudice and zombies on the G train”. But sometimes i’d like to think when I catch a guy stealing glances that the universe is setting up a moment that will ensure that I will stick in his mind for at least an hour ;) 

* * *

I read missed connections too, for entertainment, and for the slim chance someone spotted me on the train and thought I was the most beautiful thing in the world. They are like little love stories.  

* * *

Married Older Thinking about an affair.

* * *

Of course they do. I was in the bear costume, and it was you who were on the bike shaped like a swan!!

You wouldn’t happen to wear a pair of dark grey chucks would you?

* * *

I hope they do and I hope there is too.

* * *

I wasn’t in a bear costume and unfortunately I don’t own a bike shaped like a swan, but I agree with every word you said.  Faith in humanity is a strange thing isn’t it?  How in a city, like you said, of millions can it be so difficult to hold onto that faith?

I can’t promise you that stories like that exist but I can assure you that I exist. 

Walt Whitman said it best…

Passing stranger! you do not know

How longingly I look upon you,

You must be he I was seeking,

Or she I was seeking

(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely

Lived a life of joy with you,

All is recall’d as we flit by each other,

Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me,

Were a boy with me or a girl with me,

I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become

not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,

face, flesh as we pass,

You take of my beard, breast, hands,

in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you

when I sit alone or wake at night, alone

I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again

I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

* * *

Haha, I hear you. My brain is starting to rot from paper work, so I peruse the Craigslist missed connections. Why? Well, I could go for the men for women, and be disgusted by ads without even clicking them. I could check out the platonic section and see “join for free today!” So, I guess I opt out for missed connections do I develop some faith that people actually have reactions and emotions towards others outside of the bar. But then you figure in the “missed connections” part and so what the hell. Buck up and go after them the first time! I moved here a month ago, and so I hear you. But its nyc, there’s got to be some normal, non homicidal, young professionals right? :) fingers crossed.

* * *

i reconnected with someone on here that i spoke to once, because i too looked to kill time at work. i thought i would go for it — the one written about me. the guy ended up being tragically boring. what a cliché. “romance is dead”

lol

i still read them.

There is so much to dread / m4w / 27 / Manhattan

My friends tell me it is too soon or that the grass is growing tall beneath my feet. There is so much to dread. I’ve never traded flirtatious texts after midnight. What is the difference between “seeing,” “hanging out with,” and “dating” someone? I can’t even maintain eye contact with women walking on the street. I’m shy, I’m insecure, I fear rejection and the possibility my male gaze (I’ve taken one survey class on feminism in college) is offensive and an objectifying intrusion. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable with my advances, silent eyeballs or otherwise. I won’t let my eyes linger on a sheer shirt and black bra. I watch the eyes of other men; watch them turn around halfway up the block to look at an ass in short shorts. I’m satisfied smelling perfume as a woman passes. 

                                           via Brett Fletcher Lauer

Actual Responses to the Ad: 


that was lovely to read. many a lucky lady who would be happy to have someone like you!

* * *

licker

* * *

Not having any success finding that person who you had a missed connection with on Craigslist? Well it’s no surprise. You’re not able to keyword search for any of the details about the encounter, the other person or even where it happened.

That’s where I T I G G Y is different. There you can search according to where the
encounter happened, what the other person looked like, and even anything distinguishing about them, such as their green handbag or their big white headphones.

If you want a better way of finding them that is free, fun and safe, check out I T I G G Y dot com.

What have you got to lose?

* * * 

Oh no…

Nicely written - women love the gaze though. Don’t let them tell you any different.  

almost all the way / w4m / 28 / A to Far Rockaway

I got on the A at 207 noticed you at 181
I was sitting you were standing by 168
I was certain you were glancing at me
at 145th you sat
(you: fitted button-up)
you didn’t seem too stalkerish
I had time to think about it all the way down
(me: not frowning, just intent
on our joint future)
at Chambers afraid you had got up to leave
but you were giving up your seat
and almost had a heart attack again at Metro-tech
when you started to move
only to settle in at Hoyt-Schermerhorn across the aisle
where you proceeded to give me the flirty eyeball all the way to Howard Beach!

I was too shy to continue.
But did you really need to go so far into Queens?

                                                     via Elsbeth Pancrazi

Actual Response to the Ad:

You stayed on the train, even though your stop was way before that for some guy, and you didn’t get up and say something to him? WOW!!! no wonder I am alone. man you are shy baby girl. enjoy my art.

Attached artwork:

❒ Single ❒ Taken / w4m / 25 / Manhattan

✔ Will probably hook up with anyone who writes a Missed Connection about me at the last LCD Soundsystem show. 


                                                    via Laurel Crosby


Actual Responses to the Ad:

……. ? 

[Email included a link to following missed connection]

LCD Soundsystem Show 3/31 / m4w / 26 / Midtown West

Jaime, or is it Jamie? 

We met as I left the intensely packed crowd to get a beer. You warned me once I came back, I would no longer have my spot. I said “no chance, don’t you worry, I’ll be back.” I indeed came back. When I did, we started dancing, chatting. You were with one friend and I was with two, ages 27 and 28, which came up in conversation because you thought we were younger than you. You were wearing a gold band around your head, and when you left to get some breathing room, you said “Ok, well I’ll never see you again.” I passed on the opportunity to get your number right there strictly because I thought I’d play it cool and that I’d see you and your gold headband again before the show was over. I was wrong, I’m apparently not that cool. 

Jaime, or Jamie, I’d love to get together some time. Hope you had fun the rest of the show!


* * *


i’ll be honest. 
i didn’t go to the LCD Soundsystem show, i wanted to but i only knew
one song of theirs.

the thought of hooking up was enticing.  It’s what started me to write
you an ad.

but as i wrote it, as i read and re-read your one line post, with its
meticulously cute checks and boxes, with all its emotions behind every
word, i began to see you.

and i think you are beautiful.

so, hallos stranger, i like your purple dress, it’s really cute on
you.  would you like to hold hands for the next song?

❒ Yes handsome i’d love to       ❒ Maybe.. oh why not

here’s our missed connection [included link to the following missed connection]

Someone Great / m4w / 25 (LCD Soundsytems)

you were standing in the crowd as i cut a path back to my spot from the bar. 

it all seemed so fast as i drink in the moment. the way your hair fell, the way you moved without realizing it, the way your beautiful crystal eyes fixated on the invisible vibrations. i felt your presence. and all i wanted to do was to hug it. 

it was too much and i needed to calm down, i’d like your first impression of me to be cool and collected, fun and funny. i needed the drink in my hand and maybe a couple more to rip down the walls and show my naked self. 

i came back for you. 

i couldn’t find you, and someone great was gone.   


* * *


oh if I only had impeccable taste in music like you and new what real good music was then I would meet you? Is that the point here? One thing you will never catch me doing is calling your musical taste superior..This band is OK and that is all..certainly in no position to make all the ignorant dickhead comments they made directed towards me on their page…i have never said anything about your taste in music being bad I will say you picked some ignorant dickheads in this case to be a fan of..I’d actually be into checking out more shows if I had some transportation and a friend to go with..


* * *

Posted to Craigslist in response to ad:

To the girl who says she’ll hook up with anyone Re: LCD / m4w / 25

Single, not Taken.

You were wearing all white. Or all black. Perhaps a blend of both colors.

Additionally you may have been wearing color.

Drink?  


* * *

 
And now the Flavorpill story:

http://flavorwire.com/167434/craigslists-most-wonderful-lcd-soundsystem-missed-connections

Your Screaming Baby / w4m / 36 / Brooklyn

You: a middle-aged Dad with a screaming baby in a stroller. Me: a very pregnant lady who saw her future staring her in the face.

We were sitting across from one another on a Bay Ridge-bound R train when your baby started screaming in that paint-peeling way that makes people hate children. I watched as you tried everything short of duct taping the baby’s head to your leg to make it stop, but it didn’t matter — everyone thought you were evil. They assumed your baby cries like that all the time because (a) you are a terrible Dad or (b) the sub-par gene-cocktail you passed along resulted in an irredeemably terrible baby. It probably didn’t help that your Bugaboo was blocking the aisle. FYI? People hate that.

We all watched as a hipster couple with impressive haircuts exchanged a “live free or die” look before heading to the back of the train.

I sent you frantically empathetic signals with my eyes. My eyes said, “I know it’s not your fault. Everyone has bad days. I’m sure you are actually a great Dad! Please don’t let this one episode prevent you from ever going outside again. Your baby probably just has a poopy diaper. And how would those hipsters feel if they happened to take a warm dump in their Diesel jeans and now had to sit it out, all the way to 77th Street? Not so smirky, I bet!”

I would love to continue this conversation with you using words, not eyes. 

Maxine


                                                                      via Alina Simone

Actual Responses to the ad


Were you the pregnant woman on the R train on Sunday?


* * *

BABY AD

I’m not that guy, and I hope you find him but never seen anyone write what you did like you did and I’d like to continue that conversation over coffee with you anyway if you feel like a conversation with a stranger in Manhattan some day.

* * *

Hi Maxine, your CL post was not intended for me but I just wanted to say it was great! You’re obviously an intelligent and special person! Drew

Lorem Ipsum / m4w / 31 / New York

I’m placing this here for you. I will change it later.

                                                via Brett Fletcher Lauer

Actual Response to the Ad

Hey,

I’m working on a project about missed connections on craigslist in NY and I was wondering if you would be willing to answer a few questions about your experience.

I know that craigslist is kind of sketchy to begin with and it’s hard to trust anyone here, so we could talk via email and of course that you could remain anonymous if you feel more comfortable this way.

I am getting in touch with several people who post here so I could get a broad view on some of the issues I’m interested in. In general, this project will deal with the way people interact with each other, meet new people, and cope with loneliness; all in relation to living in New York.

Looking forward to hear back from you,

MISS YOUR ROAST BEEF HEART w4m / 39 / Dean Street, Brooklyn

The night we met I had two things in mind: a ride home and my finger in your waxy ear. Now they are tearing down that old bar and it makes me feel like yellow paper. I miss your roast beef heart, Dally.

Before we had eleven kids, before we moved to the sticks like miniature Indian schoolgirls huddling against a sandstorm in bright red saris, time was everywhere, heavy as a cast iron bath, toxic as a round of Telephone Operator. You tell me we are broke. We are broke like that apartment on Clinton that had swastikas in the tiles because it was built before the Nazis and evil even existed! You tell me we are old. We are old like diamonds, Dally. Fabulous, shining karaoke diamonds.   Joey B sold the diner. Bonnie Blanche and Angie are ghosts for the west. But has the line gone gone? Black black? NO.  It is GOOD LUCK to have kids with head lice, to let someone’s else lunch stink the F train. Prospect Park will come and go over THEIR heads. Eighty-eight years ago my great grandfather’s band played Concert Grove. His young son stood to the side, tapping one foot while my grandmother, his wife-to-be, as just a girl, danced under the pavilion. THEY NEVER MET. But, Dally, we did. I can assure you, eighteen children on my breasts, we did.   You want to know where the money for babysitters is going to come from? I don’t know! You want a vasectomy? Fine! But come back to bed, Dally. Don’t miss me. True love always. Blue, blue, blue forever. Look up from your droid. I swear I’d make the whole thing up for you.

                                                  via Samantha Hunt


Actual Response to the Ad:

Dear Matterhorn

Your dally etude gets to me. How is it your posterity multiplies in the ruins? In how many Bensonhurst back lots or Western Montana reclamation sites does a cast iron tub fill with wreckage and make soil? Lord knows we get our hands loamy with the matter.

I stayed as long as I could reads the epitaph, but the body squirms. Across this epistemological body I drove your brother’s beater west and time exchanged it for a bonnie camilla and reset the compass rose. Now at this window with the valley’s shuddering fever within me, the crummy leaves have prettied the hew of wet life.

I wish most there were a microphone and a love in the air. The one that makes me laugh she said, and threw her arms around my neck. Today I commit to writing your Louderhorn in a what-can-it-hurt aching to be nearer you and blue and blue and blue and blue.

I have as many knees as you have breasts.

Bb

We Didn’t Start the Fire / w4m / 30 / 110th Street and Amsterdam Avenue/ NYC

The last time I saw you in person was in 1991, twenty years ago this spring, when we were in the fifth grade. That summer, you moved away. I’ve looked for you since, on the Friendsters and Myspaces and Facebooks of the world, but never very thoroughly, and without any success. Once, I googled you, and found that you played in a bluegrass band. I think that means fiddles.

You moved to the South, a resort community on the coast of the Carolinas. When you lived in New York, your parents had a restaurant, or at least I think they did, because each year it was your mother who came into our classroom to teach us how to make gingerbread houses. I heard a few years ago that she was held at gunpoint in the parking lot of a shopping mall, which made me sad in part because she was so beautiful and freckled, like you, all strawberry and orange and kind. I don’t think I ever saw your father. It’s possible that they got divorced, but I hope not.

Things you liked in 1991: professional hockey, Billy Joel, making jokes. I borrowed your Rangers hat, its adjustable sizing band held together with the kind of tape hockey players wrap around their sticks, and I still have it. You left right before I understood about crushes, and boyfriends. I think you would have been a good one. We would have laughed at everything. Let me know if you’d like your hat back, your name still written in your mother’s handwriting on the inside, clear as day.

                                                         via Emma Straub

Actual Response to the Ad:

Hey there!

Did I get your pulse racing?? Sorry to intrude your in-box. Firstly I am NOT the one you were looking for. NO NO, I am not selling you any motivational products.

I am a genuine human just like you. I saw your post and wanted to reach out and connect with someone who was experiencing something similar to me. Isn’t it terrible that, we always want what we can’t get and that we are always caught off guard.

How can life be laid out on decisions we make in seconds?

I have a question for you, got a minute?

Antichrist Mayor/ w4m / 40 / The West Village, NYC

You were eating a chocolate muffin in front of the Magnolia Bakery, and the specks in your hair shone wild in the dark autumn night. I loved you from the minute I saw you, and knew you were my soulmate. I didn’t talk to you because I was shy and disheveled—oh how I wish I did! You rode away on your motorcycle, and it was obvious you were making plans to poison all the apples at Trader Joe’s. You know as well as I do, when I talked to the future mayor on the phone in 1999, that he was the antichrist who would give us the mark of the beast with his Bloomberg machines. Write me, love. I’m waiting.

                                                via Noelle Kocot


Actual Response to the Ad:

Found you on the CL site. I was in that area and I could fit the description.
email me back and lets proceed from there. Hope ya are having a Good Saturday nite.