Not Really A MISSED Connection...

This is kind of bratty, but I also kind of liked it. I'm not trying to be bike-centric, I promise.

I hit you on my bike this morning.... - m4w - 34 (Midtown East)

Given the posting title, i guess this isn't really a "missed"
connection. We connected quite solidly.
You: Blue dress, mid-twenties,
gorgeous, blonde, black shoes, enormous purse, risk taker. I can tell you're a
risk taker because you cross against the light with ur ipod going full tilt.
Thats why you didn't hear me yelling for you to watch out.

Anyway, I
hope you're still alright. I think you're beautiful.
I'm alright, and more
importantly, my bike is ok.
Same time and place monday morning?

Verdict: Wouldn't that be an ol' meet-cute? Even if this dude has the very faint touch of the douche in him.

Seriously?

Ok...

Ric Seeks Amanda Bynes. - m4w (Downtown)

I know this is kinda odd, but im looking for my future wife. Her name is Amanda Bynes. Hopefully she can date me and realize that i'm the right one for her. I heard she lives in NY or LA. So i wrote this to find her, if anyone knows her real phone number or email let me know.

xoxo for Amanda Bynes.

laters Ric. [I know its a longshot, but i'll try anyway.]

There is so much wrong with this, I kind of love it.

Number first, the little business card he attached with his personal info. The fact that some dude from Texas is MC-ing a celebrity he thinks might live in New York. The fucking El Paso city seal. What? Seriously. WHAT???

Is this a joke? Is this a joke posted by someone who is not the illustrious and industrious Ric? Is this 4 reals? Amanda Bynes IS super cute and everything. But somehow...I doubt the effectiveness of this method.

Verdict: My mind is being blown right now, people. Laters!

You Jokesters!

Saw you on Bedford on Saturday - m4w - 32

On the corner of 7th and Bedford (at the subway)

You: mid-twenties, jet black hair, red lipstick, wearing red cons, jeans, in your third trimester. You had with you a five year old, a three year old, a two year old, a six month old and a pug (I think). You had a half-smoken cigarette behind your ear and were reading Marcel Proust.

Me: Early thirties, brown hair, a bit of stubble, wearing a dress shirt. No tie. No pants. I'm pretty good looking (some say movie star looks) I was begging for change and/or food. Did you see me? I was the one who visibly hadn't bathed for weeks. People were going out of their way to avoid coming near me?

Write me back. I'd love to take you out for thai food or body shots. I have an extensive 8-track collection, and love listening to them with friends while eating a candlelit dinner, and while naked.

In front of the cell phone store on Manhattan ave. - m4w - 25

You were handing out fliers in front of the cell phone store Sunday afternoon. I was walking by carrying my shopping in one hand and my lunch in the other. I wasn't able to take one of your fliers! Was it for cell phone accessories? I really wanted to take one, but my hands were full! I'm in desperate need of cell phone accessories (chargers, cases, etc) and everywhere I've gone is too over-priced! Do you have any deals on cell phone accessories? Help me! Please!

Verdict: Normally I don't like these like, jokey slash inside joke slash thinly-veiled social commentary MCs*, but these made me larf. Maybe it's the change in the weather or something.

* I may or may not be lying in the interest of saving face. Then again, what the fuck do I care, I'm the one blogging about them.

Scent of a Woman

I was actually planning a post about all the perfume-related MCs there have been lately, but I read this and decided it needed its own.

Missed connection with my date tonight - w4m (Downtown)

We've been seeing each other for a few months, and I thought you were into me. I know I'm into you; you're smart, we share interests, we quote Shakespeare at each other. It doesn't hurt that I think you're pretty hot, and you definitely smell amazing. And when our chemistry's on, it's on. I thought you were into me, too: I'm smart, I laugh at all your jokes and groan at all your puns, you tell me you like how I look, and I get all your allusions except for the '70s pop culture ones (unfortunately that's your favorite kind).

I know not everything's perfect -- you're not over "the love of your life" who left you years and years ago, what we have isn't going to turn into love, you think I put myself down too much, and our age difference makes you feel old sometimes. But for what it is, we have a great thing going: we have a ton in common, we get along well the majority of the time, we're becoming good friends, and the sex is hot.

The last time you stayed over was the first week of September, and frankly, that time sucked -- it was a weeknight, so we were both exhausted and irritable, and didn't have much time together at all. So near the end of this week, I called to see what was going on, and you said the weekend was hectic (of course; my life is too, which is why I agreed to being FWB as long as we're genuinely friends too). But you said Saturday night would probably work. Perfect, I said, since Saturday night was also best for me. We agreed you'd call me once you were sure what your plans were.

I know you're a spontaneous kind of guy, and that's great; I'm not really rigid in my planning either. But since we both have hectic schedules and we're only free at the same time once, it makes sense to arrange in advance that we'll see each other, even if we don't decide exactly what we're doing until later. For you, it's easy: you call me, then maybe an hour later you show up at my place all ready to enjoy a night of spanking, oral sex, and cuddling. But I'm a girl, and I go crazy when I only have an hour's warning. I get your call, and then before you get here, I have to clean my apartment, shower, shave everything below the neck, do my hair and makeup, use about five different kinds of lotion, put on semi-sexy clothes with full-out sexy underwear, get groceries, start making dinner for you, and be sure everything in my apartment is ready.

I'm learning to adapt, though. This time, since I knew you'd come over sometime Saturday evening, I did most of the work in advance. On Friday, besides my normal life, I planned a meal, found and got a DVD I know you'll like, got groceries, and did all the shaving and so forth I could do in advance. This Saturday, I went out and did normal Saturday-morning and -afternoon stuff, but when I got back, I scrubbed the place from floor to ceiling, then showered. When I got out, I did my hair and makeup, chose my outfit, put the underwear on, did what dinner prep I could, then sat around in my bathrobe waiting for you to call and say what time you'd come by.

I expected to get your call around 5 PM -- that's when you usually let me know if you're on your way. I waited until just before 7 to call your cell . . . and got voicemail. I left a breezy message, asking you to let me know what time you're coming, or if something came up and you're not free, let me know so I can do something else. A little while after 8, I called your cell again, and made it to voicemail again. I laughed and kept it light, saying I was trying to work out what I was doing tonight, and I was wondering if you were an option, but if something had come up I'd talk to you later, whatever.

It's now just about 1 AM, and there's no way you're coming tonight. It sucks -- everything, including me, is here and ready for you. All my prep might not be a big deal if I could just postpone it a day or two, but now that we've missed this Saturday, our free nights won't overlap until next Saturday. It sucks that you didn't even call to say you weren't coming; like a fool, I just sat around and waited for you.

It's 1 AM. I have to take off my makeup, and all this uncomfortable underwear you like to see me in. I feel like such a lonely loser.

This made me really sad. I'm glad this girl called herself on it. But hasn't everyone been made a lonely loser of? Hasn't everyone been felt a waste of freshly-shaved skin and pretty underwear? And more to the point, what's the point of a Friend with Benefits if there are no benefits?

Here is someone who has no delusions or romantic deceptions about the relationship she's quasi in, and she still gets let down.

Verdict: MC-cum-lament: Have a poignant summer!

The Creeps Come Out at Night

Ew!

Really Cute Intern - m4w (Financial District)

I catch you staring when I walk by. You're so adorable, but so young.
Damn.

Verdict: Creepy.

saturday night...weird situation/attraction - m4w - 30

This is entirely inappropriate but I think we were both attracted to each other...I know I was. If you write back, give me some detail so I know it's you...Or you can just come by for that shower I mentioned ;)

Verdict: Creepy. But kind of hot.

Dolphins on Klonopins

Something about this reminds me of my darling Tender Gittles. It involves dreams, pills and puppies. That's like basically her MO.

We loved each other like DOLPHINS on klonopins - m4w - 25

I had this weird dream about you where you had the head of a snake and you were wearing a shirt made out of live geese... and then my teeth started falling out like that scene in The Fly part II...

Remember that scene?

We watched it together... probably...

Maybe it was The English Patient...

Either way...

Then we were in the ocean, only the ocean was made from cute puppies in these little cardigan sweaters... and we were sailing on a boat made of love... I mean... in the dream like, when I stepped out into the third person, in the dream, the boat was made of wood... but in the context of the dream... it was all love baby... and I don't just mean love... I mean like, love, but when I say it, it sounds like it sis spelled with like, twelve 'o's

I don't actually know what that all means though I can only assume it was some sort of grand metaphor for my desperate need to get it on with you in a big way...

Where are you?

I miss you. I want to hold you tight baby.

You can't start a fire...

You can't start a fire without a spark

This guns for hire

Even if we're just dancing in the dark

Well yeah, this gun, as in me, as in my huge muscles, are definitely for hire.

Verdict: This seems to be directed towards someone, which if pulled off correctly is quite endearing. I have no idea what it means, but it seems romantic to me!

As a side note, the pic I used is actually a WEDDING CAKE TOPPER. How flipping awesome/tacky is that!?

EDIT- Miss Gittles asked me if the same guy posted this as posted the MC about the German girl. SO ASTUTE, they definitely have the same feel. We are trying to befriend him because he rules.

Stop Stalking Me

Both of these titles made me do a double-take. Because you know it's my DREAM to be MC'd.

Super sexy designer that I work with - m4w - Chelsea

You are so hot and I love it when you talk to me.

Verdict: Guys, don't fight over me.

In other news...

san loco around 1 a.m. 2nd ave. - m4w

you = blonde with a friend. eating rather messy.

me = short brown hair. facing you.

you were, and im sure still are, quite beautiful.

Verdict: What did I JUST SAY?

Simpler is Better

Maybe it's because I'm on the business end of a bender, but this made me laugh.

girl in mask at motherfucker - m4w - 22

It was a pleasure dancing with you, I was wearing pants and a shirt and I had hair.

Verdict: I love guys who have hair!

Brooklyn Bicycle Porn

This is dedicated to everyone who knows I have a thing for hipster boys on bikes... namely me, and in honor of my being reuinted with my bike, which lives down south. I always check out all the kids on bikes when walking across the bridge, myself, so I feel her pain. Kind of. She gets a little florid & verbose, and it's another case of MC-as-diary-entry. But I guess I'm a sucker for that. The girl knows what she wants.

boys riding bicycles across the bridge on a serene evening! - w4m -23

I’m riding across the bridge headed to manhattan and it’s nighttime, a clear night, the skyline all aglitter. It’s cool and temperate so I’m nearly sweatless… You pass me across the river, you’re going to brooklyn and I make briefest eyecontact with one, two three of you… I always wear a dress with
shorts underneath and your eyes hesitate on my thighs for only a moment… or
perhaps it’s wishful thinking.

I’ll be returning later in the evening, but I want to stop you to mention
that we should simply travel together. I know it may be difficult to hold hands
while on such a peregrination, or to even ride side by side in casual
conversation. I’m happy enough to ascend more quickly than you, arriving at the
plateau only to have you race past and beat me to the other side. My legs grow
stronger every day, but I can’t deny that chasing after a righteous man should
aid my ever flourishing musculature.

Why are the boys who find my tail a tantalizing chase lacking in bicycles?
Instead they tend to smoke too much pot, watch episodes of the simpsons and
mystery science theater on repeat, shop at H&M compulsively, wash their hair
with disconcerting frequency, attempt to woo me with irritating songs on a
harmonica, and offer to take me to whitecastle for a slider in the car so we
won’t have to move our legs in the slightest. [Tiny Gines says: Hey wait a minute, that sounds pretty flipping sweet to me...except the hair-washing. Washing your hair is soooo played out.] But I want to move my legs! How
long it’s been since I’ve ridden with a boy, side by side, over bridges and
across pleateaus, through valleys and over mountains… How much I miss these
pleasures! I want to ride with you, arriving cool and vigorous and in a state of
subtle ecstatic bliss! Or maybe we’ll never arrive, only to adventure through
the night and into the early morning dawnlight. Exercise, heartsplosion.

Next time you see me, one of us should turn around. Better times are
inevitable.

Verdict: Bike love, what!

Rainy Sunday

MC with rainy lazy sunday afternoon sex - w4m - 25

You: rainy, lazy, soft yet passionate, intensely mellow sunday afternoon sex. you start in the afternoon, hung over, smelling like booze and smoke, cotton mouthed, half asleep and going in for the spoon position. after some refreshingly burnt coffee and possibly some eggs with a side of advil you become more serious. you go for the belle and sebastian (really does not matter which, expected yet fitting), open windows, the smell of fresh cold rain coming in with the cool breeze bringing with it hours upon hours of dirty pleasure and the beautiful agony of brining in the evening with entangled limbs, raw lips and full ashtrays not to mention marathon style orgasms. breaks are given to bathroom, ordering thai, cat naps and the occasional meaningless conversation about how hot the other person is and why. Me: totally missing out on all-o-dat.

Now, what DID I do on my rainy, lazy sunday afternoon? woke up, hung over per usual, fuzzy headed, confused, messy haired, phone vibrating up a storm. who is it? bff. on her way over all bright eyed and bushy tailed ready for brunch. I tear myself out of my floral sheets, throw some american apparel on and zip (i mean, walk kinda slow) over to who the fuck cares. after some way too many calories we have the genius idea of not missing the last day of free music at maccaren pool (YACHT are good but not enough to endure). worst idea ever thought up by a human, ever. why did we think that gawking at the topless skinny boys high 5'ing each-other hard core in the spitting rain while all the 19 year old girls who are firmer, perkier with way less baggage and zero trust issues, cheer in tube socks and hot pants while we, now the older girls who should know better than to be there in the first place having some minor panic attack about the upcoming work week and the idea of our desks with the macs on them and our bosses who want their files saved as PDF's not JPG's for the millionth time, a little chilly, tired and defeated after spotting way too many old flames and one nighters, decide to bouncity bounce outta there asap. best we can come up with is making cookies and watching a movie which in reality turns into cookie dough (that shit can really make you sick) and dwelling for what seems like decades on decoding cryptic text messages from the dudes, no, douches, who deem it cool to do us once in a while.

Jenny: what do you think he means when he says "yeah, sorry for the booty call, was out with the bro's hoped you were still up"?

Amanda: I think he is trying to tell you that he was too shy to make actual plans.

Jenny: maybe... i don't know... i think it was just a booty call.

Amanda: sounds to me like he really likes you and wishes you were his girlfriend.

Jenny: you are fucking dumb.

Amanda: sure but his tats suck. he's not even straight edge anymore.

Jenny: but he calls me "babe"...

Amanda: well, ok, what do you think "busy, call you later" means?

Jenny: so into you.

Amanda: really? you think so?

Jenny: totes calling you later. Amanda: for cereal?

Jenny: whatever. his jeans are like girl jeans anyway and his band aint that great.

Amanda: yeah... animal collective did it better.

This goes on forever until the sugar crash, some TBS movie starts over and we should probably get it together and realize that dudes don't care that much about what they write via text message and are getting laid as we speak with someone other than us.

So rainy, lazy sunday afternoon sex or R.L.S.A.S, I missed my connection with you big time. I hope I run into you sometime, maybe when we are riding our bikes or walking our dogs or on our 4th cocktail, who knows... just wanted to let you know, I really love you R.L.S.A.S, you mean a lot to me, please don't stop being amazing cause you rock my vagina... no, I mean my world.

This girl had me for a while. The first paragraph is kind of genius longing, especially for a scenario that sounds so delicious and appealing.

Then WHOA. It slipped into desperation. Why do so many MCs end up akin to diary entries? That works if it's cute. But if I was her, I would have stopped after the first paragraph. If I was a guy, I would be thinking "yeah, that sounds awesome." But instead, guy-me is thinking it smacks of bitterness.

Verdict: Let's pretend that it doesn't exist, and let's hope that this fall is full of lovely rainy Sunday trysts.

Milkshakes

Wasn't there. But OMG-

to each and every girl at the hold steady show last night - m4w - 29

i want to buy you a milk shake.

I want to buy you ME, cute boy.

If I were to post a MC, I would post one like this. But it would be like "to all the boys on the L train" or "all the cute boys at the Pool, I want your babiez," or "all the adorable guys on bikes I saw Wednesday AM when I was walking across the Williamsburg Bridge were driving me crazy!"

You know, or something.

Verdict: posts like this make me happy and make me believe in LUV!

To That One Chick

Today, an example of that rare variety of Missed Connection- the really cute guy who says more than "Hey hot blonde at Starbucks, what's your name?"

to that one chick whom I desperately want to make out with... - m4w

You are hot and pretty and hot... like a rainbow... or some really nice utensils.
When will you be mine?
That is not a rhetorical question. Please answer it. I feel like you are just like that Marvin Gaye song, when he says "I'm hot just like an oven..."

Only it's you who is hot just like an oven.

And it isn't an oven.

It is a gas range stove or a beautiful rainbow or the molten core of the earth.

I want to do hard drugs with you and make out like teenagers.

Then I want to satisfy you sexually for up to (but not beyond) 4 minutes, because that is all it will take because I am that awesome at pleasuring women in a sexual way, probably.

I hope you read my other posts that I wrote... they mentioned your being german, but I changed the headline because it occurs to me that you may not be german at all.

But you are as sexy as Jessica Rabbit.

Here's a list of sexy things I would do for you:

Bake you something
Build a moat around your house
Make you tacos
Go to a Tommy Lee concert and pretend like it didn't suck
Punch a cute puppy in the head
Buy bottled water
Donate money to charity
Find God
Find a missing person
Find you the best pizza in Brooklyn
Find Forrester
Build you a tennis court
Learn to fence
Make out with you like teenagers

Ha Ha... see what I did there? I named all this hard and crappy stuff, then I threw in the making out thing and... well you know...

It's like, reverse psychology or whatever.

Be mine and I will most certainly be yours.

Ok. First of all, he gets points for good grammar in his title.

Second, this is probably the cutest MC ever. It seems to be directed at someone specific (that the person knows in real life), which is adorable. If it's directed at someone from afar, my advice to that lady is to hop to it with this fella, because he is obviously awesome.

Third, this guy is my type, y'all. And not just because of the tacos and hard drugs. This is the perfect blend of funny, kinda sexy and kinda romantic.

Verdict: I really hope it works out for these two.