Missed Connections

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Puking my heart out

Where: TEK basement

When: Friday, 1:30am

You were on the far side of the basement. Our eyes met. I could tell this was something special, and I stumbled my way through the dancers. But as soon as I crossed the room and opened my mouth to speak, I vomited on your shirt. If you ever manage to wash off that smell, I’d love to reconnect.

 

Have codeine, will share

Where: Quiet room, Penrose library

When: Wednesday, 11:35pm

I was in the quiet room with a bad cough. You were sitting across the table from me. Every time I coughed, sneezed and blew my nose you would look at me, but I never had the courage to make eye contact. I’m living in the health center now, but please stop by!

 

High Skates

Where: on the walkway

When: Monday, 2:27pm

You were skating from Olin to the library, and I was skating from the library to Olin. I knew then we were two halves of a whole. I did a wheelie straight into your outstretched arms. You toppled backwards onto the hard concrete, your helmetless head absorbing the impact. If the concussion didn’t cause irreversible amnesia, would you like to meet up sometime?

 

Trainwreck 2.0

Where: Coffee House of Reid

When: Wednesday, 3:15pm

You arrived to your interview for The Pio, and I asked you my first question. You answered it. I examined how your full, pink lips traced the shapes of the words you used in your answer. I asked you another question. The conversation flowed easily, almost as if we had a previous connection – like the instantaneous connection that forms when two people email each other extensively to find a time and place to meet. At the end, I did not ask for your number. Would it be weird if I asked for your number in the quote check email?

 

Off to a Rocky Start

Where: Climbing Gym

When: Friday 4:05pm

We were both about to top out at two routes adjacent to each other. Our eyes met. I reached swiftly to grab the last hold on my route, which was just above your nose. Your face wrinkled in disgust and you began hastily rappelling down the wall. I realized that I had not put deodorant on before climbing. It stinks that we met under these conditions, but would you like to hang after I shower?

 

Silent Awe

Where: Penrose Library Silent Room

When: Wednesday 8:54pm

You. You, the one with the unruly brown hair, who, on Wednesday night, was studiously chipping away at your astronomy homework in the back corner of the library’s silent room.

I watched you from one table over, also puzzling over astronomical concerns. Once, you looked up and we made eye contact. You smiled, the dark stars of our pupils aligned, and I knew our connection was cosmic. But, alas, we were in the silent room, and I couldn’t speak a word.

If you remember me, the pudgy gal with the goofy smile, crusty jean jacket, and a staring problem, please leave a note in the library’s copy of “The New Yorker.” Let’s howl at the moon and contemplate our place in the universe together.

 

Quiet Curiosity

Where: Penrose Library Silent Room

When: Wednesday 8:54pm

You. You, the one who, on Wednesday night, was studiously chipping away at your astronomy homework in the back corner of the library’s silent room. Your wonderfully unruly blonde hair kept falling from its perch behind your ear, and you seemed to welcome it, looking up from your work as you gracefully placed those wavy golden strands back into place.

I watched you from one table over, also puzzling over astronomical concerns. Once, you looked up and we made eye contact. You smiled, the dark stars of our pupils aligned, and I knew our connection was cosmic. But, alas, we were in the silent room, and I couldn’t speak a word.

I kept watching, hoping, indeed praying, for another chance to engage with your oceanic blue-green eyes, but you were far too engrossed in your work to look up again. I admired the Sub Pop, Keep Portland Weird and Patagonia stickers on your laptop. They told me that you’re artsy and outdoorsy. So am I.

If you remember me, the skinny guy with the goofy smile, crusty jean jacket and a staring problem, please leave a note in the library’s copy of The New Yorker. Let’s howl at the moon and contemplate our place in the universe together.