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1 July 2005
One of my favorite things to read for both pleasure and therapy are the missed connection blips which run daily in free news circulations and on the internet.I love them for the sheer fact that it requires two (or more) extremely desperate people to both have enough time to constantly monitor these sections in multiple spheres of publications to find the few brief words that describe a situation that sounds vaguely familiar to the target party.For instance, they usually sound like "You had on a sweater, were standing on street corner". No shit? A sweater in December AND crossing a street? How many people do you think could reply to that, you moron. Plus, what makes them worse is, they are almost always hopeless romantics (read ‘crazy love induced stalkers') who think because somebody caught eyes with them, they're meant to be together for ever. ...continued below
. . . If this was the case, I would be married to approximately 34 erotic dancers, 10-12 prostitutes, and 1 one very suspect librarian.
Regardless, I had a grand idea. Why not write the missed connection the way I would want it written to target me? So, viola, I give you . . .
Running in my mind . . . - m4w - 26
I usually do not endeavor upon such fruitless tasks as posting a 'missed connection' item, but I was so captivated with you this morning that I could not pass up at least this one last opportunity. I would have approached you, but I am incredibly shy and maybe even slightly prudish, at least that is what my friends say, LOL!
Despite the consequences, I will just lay out the scenario and hopefully you find this and contact me.
I was running on the treadmill at Downtown 24 Fitness this morning between 7 and 8 am and you were on the elliptical machine directly in front of me.
I was in workout clothes, tightly tied running shoes, and sporting an inflated sense of destiny and self esteem. You were in sweats and had the most A-friggin'-maze-ing ass I have ever seen. As you pumped those stems of yours on the machine each methodical bounce of your ass-breasts seemed to beat like a distant jungle drum in my mind. Suddenly I realized that with each pound of my feet on upon the tread we were beginning to synchronize, dare I say, becoming one. Because of those harmonious moments I easily surpassed my 5 mile goal and felt as though I could run across the country! Similar to Forset Gump, sans the mental limitations.
Also, I found your boobs acceptable.
Anyways, I was wondering if you go for a cheese sandwich sometime or possible a midday motel visit (I can make it quick if you're work only gives you a 30 minute one)? I think we would enjoy each other company, and perhaps strike the same beat once again?
PS – I'm just kidding about the cheese sandwich. I'm actually lactose intolerant.
I'm so awesome it hurts. I should see a doctor to be treated for a case of "awesome".
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I swear it!