“‘I hooked up with this really gorgeous Filipino guy at Kapiolani Park,’” my friend Bartholomew read to me from the Oahu Craigslist’s “Missed Connections” section shortly before lunch, as I sipped my latte and suppressed alternately fits of giggles and episodes of exaggerated eye rolling. “‘He’s about five seven,’” Bartholomew continued, “‘135 pounds, tan, and nice body…not muscled out but cut…he wears a cock ring…’”
“Wait,” I interrupted, “what, like, all the time?!”
“Well,” Bartholomew countered, “he did say he hooked up with him.”
“Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes. “See this is why I don’t read those things. Um. Anymore. They’re retarded.”
Bartholomew skipped to the next advertisement, reading, “‘You were blond, in red t-shirt and glasses, having salad and a glass of white with blond female friend at Du Vin on Thursday…’” his voice trailed off before interrupting his reading, “wait a minute, is this you?!”
“Thursday?” I repeated. “What else does it say?”
Bartholomew continued reading, “‘I was the Japanese guy two tables over from you. Wanted to talk to you, but was too shy. Please reply. Like to see you there again.’”
I quickly found the advertisement…
…and promptly spit a mouthful of latte onto my flat panel monitor.
“Oh. My. God.” I said, having read the advertisement twice myself by the time Bartholomew had finished reading it to me. “Darling, that is so me last Thursday. Kristina took me out for lunch at Du Vin and we both had salads and Riesling.” I laughed incredulously.
“You bitch!” Bartholomew hissed.
“What?!” I exclaimed.
“I cannot believe you got Craigslisted and I didn’t!” he pouted.
I laughed. “Oh, come on, Sweetie! As if it’s some kind of an honor?! Pfft!”
I suppose that, had this occurred three years ago, then, yeah, I might have felt honored / flattered / etc. Perhaps I would have even responded to it. But now? After all of the (always in hindsight, of course) rather dubious connections between myself and other men that have originated in one or another of these online forums? I’m kind of like, “Ew. This is creepy. And this dude was paying such close attention to me that he could tell you what I ordered, but was too shy to come up and talk to me at the time? Hello, Stalker! Happen to notice what make and model of digital camera was hanging around my neck that day? Why, Canon PowerShot S3 IS is absolutely right, Creepy Stalker Dude, congratulations!”
It occurred to me that I might be overreacting, so I fled my office for lunch with Bartholomew.
On the corner of Bishop and Queen Streets, I paused, lit a Marlboro Light, and speed-dialed my “blond female friend” Du Vin cohort in question, Kristina. “Darling!” I smiled into my Samsung after she had answered. “I’ve been Craigslisted!” I yelled, collapsing into laughter.
“Shut up!” Kristina responded, laughing along with me. “What did it say?!”
I repeated what I could remember of the advertisement to her. “Shut up!” she said again. “Do you remember him? Was he hot?!”
“Darling,” I said, “that’s why I’m calling you! I can’t remember this dude at all and thought you might remember him!”
Kristina sighed, then wailed, “No, no, no, no, nooooo! Atherton, I met clients for a late breakfast that morning and they poured literal pitchers of Bloody Marys down my throat before I shared that bottle of Riesling with you! I was way too tipsy to remember some Japanese dude two tables away from us.”
“Yeah,” I commiserated. “I don’t even remember eating a salad for lunch that day, but according to Du Vin Dude, I did.”
We laughed together as I dashed across Alakea Street, made plans to meet for a celebratory birthday dinner next week, and concluded our call.
“Well?” Bartholomew queried, after I had told him that neither I nor Kristina remembered the mysterious Craigslist post-er, “Are you going to respond?”
I thought for a moment.
“Absolutely not.”
Bartholomew didn’t get it. Perhaps no one else who reads about it will get it, either. Perhaps I’m being too irrational. But I just cannot see myself potentially wasting time on forging yet another “missed romantic connection” online, only to have it end up the way all of the others have, i.e., in the wastebasket.
Besides, I’ve only ever used Oahu’s Craigslist to find new apartments and practice tongue-in-cheek fiction writing projects. And I am certainly not going to start taking my Craigslist dalliances more seriously than that.
In other news, my Independence Day rocked it, my tan is working it, and I’ve somehow been snapping a whole lot of digital images with incredibly random exposure settings (sample specimen attached below) that I really should photoblog at some point but lack the time to do so right now.
(Because, you know, of my rapidly increasing Craigslist popularity.)
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