I was bored in class today, so like usual, I wondered over to Craigslist, and searched around to see if there was anything to tickle my fancy. I found my way over to the missed connections page, and my goodness, what I found was absolutely stunning. I can not begin to attempt to describe it. Every post was better than the other. Words flowed lovingly off the page like they were written by T.S. Elliot himself. Lustful sentences transformed into bashful paragraphs, all full of Woody Allen-like romantic wit, paired off with the creepiness of, well, Woody Allen.
Here are some of my favorites:
Referring to someone as an “Amazon Queen” is so ridiculous I have no choice but to respect it. Also 6’2″ 250lbs? That’s not an Amazon Queen, that’s Ray Lewis. “You looked like a dream.” That’s not a dream that’s a nightmare. Regardless, I can’t knock the hustle. She sounds thiccc as shit.
This guy seems pretty chill:
Hey Clarissa, it’s me just casually using the anniversary of the day your dad died to get back in touch. Nothing creepy about me memorizing the date of your father’s death even though I don’t even know you well enough to have any of your contact information. Thinking of you and your skin I want to wear!!!!!
Court is such an underrated place to pick up women. Everyone knows the best pickup line is to consult random females about their court cases, and reassure them that everything will be fine. Hopefully this poor girl didn’t take whatever advice he gave her, because I doubt someone who posts on missed connections has a vast knowledge of the American Legal System.
Then there was the Johnny Saga, which started out fairly normal….
I need the deats on Labor Day 2016. You know it’s a good weekend when you find yourself posting about it 2 years later on Craigslist. No doubt in my mind that this person and Johnny got into some weird shit.
And apparently the poster isn’t the most patient individual, because he/she felt the need to send a follow up:
Okay seriously, what the fuck happened on Labor Day Weekend 2016. That “I miss you” changes everything. Also why did your location change from Newport to Worcester? Those are vastly different places, and you’re moving in the wrong direction.
This guy seems nice:
First off, power move taking the subject of the post and continuing it into the body. Just throwing the rules of Craigslist out the window and I love it .
And is there anything smoother than giving a girl flowers, telling her you hate vanilla, then running away? Not to mention that fact that she also hates vanilla? What a homerun. I need a bad bitch who hates vanilla.
There’s also this guy who’s casually hitting up his ex on Craigslist:
“We weren’t the best couple”…. No shit.
I feel this guy. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been lusting around Walmart on a Saturday night, only to swoon for a woman who quickly dashes away in a knee brace. Good luck my friend.
Had to include some home town representation:
“Tell me where I live” is the new RSVP. It’s basically saying “you’re only invited if you know where I live”, and I think that’s fair. Psychotic? Sure, but still fair.
Then there’s Gonzo being Gonzo:
Typical Gonzo, you sneaky bastard.
This should be forwarded to the Boston PD:
Nothing like referring to yourself in the third person as a stone. The metaphor does sort of fall apart when you talk about the girl emailing the stone that she’s busy this week. That’s where you lost me. Admittedly, you recovered pretty well with that last “heart of the stone line”. I thought you were going to compare the diamond to your penis, but you surprised me in the best way. Also you’re fucking crazy.
Here’s one for the LGBT homies:
I can finally sleep well tonight knowing that gaydar is a real thing. Then again, only time will tell if it’s accurate.
Always nice to see someone find love in a museum:
Pro tip: if you see a girl walk into the museum of science with her mother, it’s safe to say that she’s too young. Just trying to look out for you.
Here’s a nice little ice cream run in:
I can’t count how many times I’ve walk into an ice cream place and shared intense, dreamy eye contact with someone. I think it’s something in the atmosphere. Sometimes I’ll just walk into Coldstone and start screaming.
Let’s continue on:
I feel like you need to ask a more specific question than “tell me the color of my jacket”, because there’s like a 1 in 6 chance that I could answer it and get it right. The color wheel is not that vast.
I’m not sure if I should even touch this one:
Is the window a metaphor, or did you actually climb through a window and get yelled at? Oh you came on too strong? No I actually thought you played it pretty cool. Also PSA, if anyone is thinking about sneaking through my window, know that I will not embrace you.
Then there was some poetry:
These are oddly specific times when you’re thinking of this person. First 48, hockey games, their birthday, and a Greek Festival. What kind of life are you living?
This one’s chill:
I bet you do love wet areas, like the damp basement where you keep the bodies. This one escalated quickly. The last sentence befuddled me. “Are you or anyone else going there today?” I feel like you don’t want to associate with anyone who visits the men’s wet area at Healthraxx on a daily basis. Also hilarious that whoever wrote this doesn’t even care if the same person shows up. Anyone else he/she knows is fine.
This dude’s trying to pull off a cuck:
Calling a woman’s husband the “extra-heavy driver” is absolutely ruthless. I also respect this man for not having the self awareness to realize he’s not exactly a catch either. “Hey babe, why don’t you leave your overweight husband and kids, and come live a life of lavish, adventure, and extra bread rolls with me, the take out guy at Bertucci’s.”
Then we have this dancing queen:
Am I the only one who’s absolutely foaming at the mouth to see this man on a dance floor?
“I’m not in that situation anymore, it died completely.” …….. I’m 10000% certain this man killed his wife.