… on the internet. Has there ever been a story that started out that way that ended well? This one didn’t end well, but it didn’t end all that bad, either. I’m going to get a blog post out of it, so that’s something.
There’s a guy on the internet who writes poems. Not poems, really, more like stream of consciousness missives. He writes one every night. And posts them in the “Men Seeking Women” section on Craigslist. How do I know that? What was I doing surfing the personals on Craigslist? In my defense I was looking for an apartment, but my attention wavered and I thought I’d check out the personals. Much more entertaining. So, that’s how I stumbled upon a listing that was unlike the others. Lengthy, story-like, rich with interesting imagery and rife with SAT words. By surfing through multiple days, I figured out this guy was posting on a regular basis. I emailed him, curious to know if he was simply a vigilant date-seeker or if he was an avant-garde artist using Craigslist as a quirky new medium. He replied, which thrilled me, and said it was a little of both.
Fast forward roughly two weeks to last night. His missive of last evening entailed Oreos, tall buildings, and acceleration due to gravity. I was charmed. It was so well written, so clever and so compelling! I contemplated printing it out and framing it, it was that good. Now, I am a hopeless romantic with a very active imagination. In my mind I had this guy and me married, sailing into the sunset, living happily ever after. Fortunately I’ve been through this before. I know I can get way too excited about things, and that my fantasies tend to be overly idealistic. I was certain, for example, that this Craigslist poet with his wonderful metaphors and brilliant vocabulary was a tall, dark and handsome, wealthy Baron from an exotic country, tragically misplaced here in Alexandria and living in some sweeping, lavishly appointed garret or loft nearby. In the interest of nipping my Silhouette Romance tainted mind in the bud, I decided to ask this guy out and see what was really what. I figured he’d either be everything I’d conjured and we could jump start our life together, or, more likely, the illusion could come crashing down and I could get on with my life.
What I didn’t expect is that he wouldn’t want to go out with me. I invited him to tea; he declined. Can you beat that? I sent a photo, he said I have a “kind and welcoming smile”. Yippee.
Back to my regularly scheduled Saturday night, I guess. A big plate of kale and black beans, Netflix and popcorn. I’ve decided to stop looking for and reading his posts, although I think someone should collate them all into a book. That would be very clever.
Tags: craigslist, dating, denial, dinner, imagination, poetry, tea
