Lovelorn Poet in Paris, FR: May I Help You?

Making Magic Is Simple, Really bu Lotus Carroll

Making Magic Is Simple, Really by Lotus Carroll

 

– Oh, this rent*!…
I should sleep in a tent!
No! I’ll ask for a hand.
– Yes, if you accept to use my… magic wand :-)
Composed by a 50ish gentleman.
Single, well mannered, respectful, well educated.
Generous. Good sense of humor.
Art (Venus of Urbino…),
literature (Fanny Hill…),
travelling (Aphrodite’s island…),
music (Liebestraum…),
gastronomy (oysters…).
Niveau de français : C2+ :-)
Escorts etc: no, thanks.

(*) non-limitative example

Her Two Cents

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconI few months back I decided to follow a few of the European Missed Connections feeds. On a whole, they’re not widely used and the posts that do appear are more in-line with Casual Encounters/NSA. However, this poetic attempt at fishing for “romance” in Paris prompted a bit of a chuckle (esp. the line about the magic wand). That’s probably not the response our poet was hoping for, but it ain’t me he’s looking for, babe…

Lovelorn Poet in Portland, OR: First Date

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

The weekend is here and that means it’s time for the mating and dating rituals of the single (and single-minded) to begin! Hopefully your endeavors in bringing sexy back work out better than this sad story from Portlandia. Remember, just because plentyofish/okcupid/zoosk/eHarmony says you’re “a perfect match” doesn’t mean it’s true! Consolation prize? You might just get some good material for a story that you can post to missed connections. Cheers! :-)

Missed Connections in Portland

First Date

beauty

First Date

“We live in a world fueled by illusions.” I said. “People just believe whatever is necessary to continue living as selfishly as they can. They don’t want truth, they want what feels good. They want the fog, not the light”

“I like ice cream and sand castles and my best friend is a balloon.” she said.

“Yup.” I said. Seriously hoping, but very much unsure, that she was being sarcastic.

“I know what you mean, but can you blame people for that?” She said.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” I said.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” She said.

“I guess you can’t blame people for coping with what can be a very brutal world…I think that people are a mix. Some beautiful and shining most of the time and some ugly and manipulative most of the time, most are somewhere in the middle….I’ve experienced too much of the harsh side.” I said. “But I can’t live my life that way. I have to believe that people are mostly good. If I didn’t, I might as well curl up and die.”

Her eyes kind of glazed over.

“I thought we were gonna talk about favorite drinks and tell stupid jokes.” She said.

“Whiskey and coke, and how many Paul Walker look-alikes does it take to drive…..”

“Ahhh…..toooo soooon.” She said, with genuine concern.

“Really? Do you know how many other people died on that day?” I said.

“No, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.” She said.

“155,000” I said. “Why does this guy matter?”

“Well, he’s famous, he’s rich, and he’s hot.” She said. “What’s the matter, you jealous?”

“No, I’m none of those things but I don’t want to be any of those things either. He captures their attention because they are told to pay attention to him.” I said. “People don’t think for themselves, they are told what to feel, how to feel, and what to pay attention too. This is what matters. I overheard a couple in line at the store talking about him like they knew him. Its wild…why are they mourning a stranger and not the 155,000 others? Do we worship media so much that we have actually tricked ourselves into believing that these people are intimate parts of our lives? Something is terribly wrong with all of this….people are actually living these illusions, everyday.”

“You think too much.” She said, her posture becoming defensive. “And you’re obviously not rich.”

Uh-Oh, I thought, maybe she knows Paul Walker.

“Maybe you don’t think enough.” I said. “And how do you know I am not rich?”
“Because you’re not, look at you.” She said, her face now resembling an exasperated cartoon.

Pause.

Silence.

I wanted to like her.

I was very quickly not liking her.

When I met her at the grocery store, she seemed so good hearted and smart. But here and now, she just seemed shallow and uninteresting. I realized that I had done it again, I had taken what she said when we met and made it into what I wanted it to be, instead of the nonsense that it actually was. I’ve done this before. Not often, but its happened.

Why?

I don’t know. The deepest attraction for me is in the mind and personality. I have to be at least somewhat physically attracted to a woman, but to really be invested there has to be a light on somewhere. A real connection. Its so hard to find, so rare, and I crave it so badly, that I create it for myself just to fill the void. I was living my own illusion!!!!

“Where are you from?” I said.

“Lake Oswego.” She said.

I started laughing. And I couldn’t stop. I had beer dripping out of my nose by the end of it. I felt like a total and complete asshole, but I couldn’t for the life of me stop. Her face became confused and then curious and then angry, but that just made me laugh harder.

She pulled her cell phone out of her purse. Then she said, pretending to have just received a text, “I have to go, thanks for the drink, dick.” I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t stop laughing. I managed to sqeak out “I’m Sorry!!!! I have a condition!!!” as she marched away almost tripping over her high heels, to be driven home fast and furiously by the ghost of Paul Walker.

Dating is hard :)

Lovelorn Poet in NYC: Various Yoga Positions

Airline ticket counters, Washington National Airport, Washington, D. C.

Airline ticket counters, Washington National Airport: Boston Public Library Archives

Various Yoga Positions
Missed Connections in Manhattan

The goat cheese melted in the summer heat before I could make a sandwich.
So much for the so called soft cheeses.
Then I remembered the advertisement for bottomless pitchers of sangria and unlimited fish tacos at the captains club for $19.95.

I waited for you by the window watching the planes land and take off, sitting on a blue upholstered modern danish classic now known as mid century.
I decided I’d rather sleep here tonight on the blue seat in terminal 23 by the window just watching.
How zen is that.

I’d drink in the air of excitement along with some mini bottles and soak in the dreams of my fellow travelers.
I might even buy a souvenir or two so I can feel like a foreigner.
Because airports are open 24 hours a day I settled on a tee shirt that said, I love New York, it was three a.m in the morning.

I decided to take some snapshots of myself in various yoga poses eating mediocre overpriced airport food.
For a few minutes I even forgot who or what I was waiting for, but the feeling arrived.
I felt like a stranger on vacation.

 

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

Isn’t it interesting how airplane travel has transformed from a rarefied experience to something resembling a trip on the cross-town bus? In looking through the old airport postcards on the BPL’s Flickr site, it’s notable how much attention was given to airport restaurants, coffee shops, and creating an elite, leisurely experience for the jet-age traveler. It’s a far cry from today’s duty-free shopping and Starbucks, but if you absolutely have to endure the modern day airport experience, there’s nothing like wading and waiting at JFK. Everybody loves New York.

 

 

Lovelorn Poets in Sacramento, CA: Whole Foods Women

Whole Foods Women
Missed Connections in Sacramento

So many pretty women but the problem is,
it’s too expensive.
I went over to a woman shopping for her organic veggies, tried to shove her into my shopping cart but then after looking at the price tag on her head of $500,000 I was like DAMN, she’s way too expensive and I can’t afford her!

So I thought okay, maybe these organic veggie women don’t all cost so much. Went up to the next tapped her on the shoulder, gave her a smirk and pointed for her to get into the shopping cart…then she showed me her price tag of ONE MILLION???!!!??? Damn…had to go.

Alright maybe the women in the snack isle aren’t so pricey. I waited and waited pretending to care about shopping for new snacks and no ladies in that isle. Only men so we got to chit chatting about snacks and they were hoping to find less expensive women on this isle. I just got frustrated and decided to go look at the cheese instead since this whole journey was starting to feel cheesy.

Then she showed up! She wore a shirt that said “Always low prices….Always!” She had this look of discomfort and organic noobness about her so I knew she was going to be the one! I tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to get into the basket. She showed me her price tag of $50.00 and I was thrilled! Then…one of those Whole Foods employees came up and gave her a sample of the raw cheese. She ate some and smiled. Then rolling my eyes I motioned once again for her to get into the basket. She grabbed the workers pen and crossed out the $50.00 price tag and jacked up the new price to $300,000.

I give up! I am never shopping at Whole Foods again! It’s back to Walmart for me. If you happen to catch women glued to toilets, their price goes waay down. It’s a steal!

 

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

As someone who recently ditched the Whole Foods shopping “experience” for a locally run food co-op, I understand our poet’s lament about sky high prices and the attitudes to match. However, I don’t think Wal-Mart presents a better solution; what good is low low China-made prices if you end up stuck to a toilet seat and on the evening news? Better to skip the snack aisle entirely and use the loo in the comfort of your domicile. Whether you’re buying million dollar chips or the .99 cent discount brand, eating them won’t improve your heath any!

Lovelorn Poet in San Francisco, CA: Arnold Schwarzenegger Is The Best Actor Ever

Arnold Schwarzenegger Is The Best Actor Ever
Missed Connections from the City of San Francisco

Terminator

Terminator by marmushka

I am NOT STALKING you.

This is how I saw it unfold.
You interjected the arnold schwarzenegger comment into my conversation with a friend. Funny, fun, spontaneous.
My friend and I left cafe xo. You got your coffee.
We walked 1/2 block. I’d left my bag at the cafe and went back to get it just as you were leaving the cafe with your coffee. I walked up to you and we had a fun conversation. I walked away.

My friends and I had gone on to have a great play day in several different parks and cafes, including conversations about serendipity, kismet, spontaneity. I told them about meeting you and how I thought there is a dearth of people able to be engaged in “spontaneous acts of conversation” due to cell phones.
My friends asked “and you didn’t get his number?”. I said NO! This is not what I do …… pick up men in coffee shops (or any where) because I aint lookin’!

And then I thought about it, and I thought “why not.?”. Why not seize the moments? I have a philosophy of non-attachment to the outcome. I am not invested in being in a relationship. I keep saying I want more people in my life.
What if there are people who are just a little more shy than me who can not make that first move and I blow it because I can’t make the first move?

Sooooo………..
I went back to the house and made you that origami fortune teller. I had the intention of tacking it up at Cafe XO in case you returned there and saw it and enjoyed the playfulness of it and ended up seeking a post on Craigslist.
As I walked towards the cafe: there you were again. I called out your name. Handed you the note and felt so embarrassed I ran off. My confidence collided with reality. It was so much easier in my imagination when I just left the note.

So this is my story of NOT STALKING you. It was truly serendipity afoot in Bernal Heights May 18th. I just wanted to play.

Lovelorn Poets Her Two Cents IconHer Two Cents

A random missed connections search on the word “philosophy” returned a relatively small, but fascinating, group of messages – like this entertaining little tale about NOT STALKING the object of a serendipitous coffee shop encounter.  While our poet claims to “have a philosophy of non-attachment to the outcome.” their actions seem to speak (nay, shout) louder than their thoughts. I wonder what happened next after the full sprint down the street…