At a recent get-together, a friend and I confessed our newfound obsession with the "Missed Connections" ads on Craigslist. And thus followed an evening where we constructed every possible Missed Connection ad that would garner the most reponses from the general public.
For example, it could not be this:
"Really tall dude with bubble butt and black beret who interrupted a friend and I's conversation about Missed Conversation ads by shoving us away from the bar with said butt whilst talking to large woman with bad tattoo in total disregard of bar etiquette."
I mean that probably wouldn't get a response because that guy probably doesn't even know how to use a computer. Jerk.
No, we were thinking more along the lines of:
"Person moving at relatively rapid pace in Audubon Park on Saturday."
You could narrow it somewhat by saying "with dog" or "looking somewhat sweaty" or "pushing one of those dorky running strollers" but the responses would still probably echo in the millions.
Of course, the curse of the missed connections is that one secretly yearns to be the subject (target) of a missed connections ad. There's something flattering (terrifying) about thinking that some stranger (maniac) might find you so striking (vulnerable) that they could place an ad (lure) in a respected forum like Craigslist and enchant (murder) you.
I mean, I'm pretty sure there have been a few about me. I can easily be the girl with a ponytail you held the elevator door for, or the girl telling her Mom on her cell phone that she might have a gambling problem. I was DEFINITELY sure that the girl who threw her shoe at a car whilst screaming at them to respect the goddamn traffic lights was me, but that ended up being in Mid-City and I really try not to go there. And perhaps it was a strain to assume I was the hot blonde bartender with large breasts working at 3am at the Balcony Bar, but I sleepwalk a lot and might as well make some money doing it.
Of course, now I really do have missed connection ads on Craigslist, but that's because my friend is now putting them up to make me feel good. Because I reciprocate. That, my readers, is true friendship.