The missed connections are in! Please write to the email address indicated, it will automatically forward to the intended lonelyheart.
On Extended Wings
You were the girl drunkenly reciting Wallace Stevens, wearing a green dress. Who knew fluttering things had so distinct a shade! I was a shy rose rabbi in the corner, nursing a Brooklyn lager looking out under heavy lids. If you let me know when you’re next going to be in Williamsburg, I’ll come out to meet you, as far as the Lorimer L stop. email@example.com
We stood next to each other in the epic line for the bathroom for what seemed like hours, but didn’t talk much except about how long it was taking; someone came up to you at one point and told you they’d “enjoyed your piece” but I didn’t catch any other details. I did notice a hole in the sleeve of your striped sweater; I had the crazy thought of asking if I could take it home and darn it for you. You gave a courtly sort of half-bow as you exited the bathroom and ushered me into it, and I think this was the only time we made eye contact. By then I was too concerned that I might inadvertently pee on myself if I paused to chat, and also the line behind me would probably have been moved to riot, but I wish I’d gotten your name, at least, so I could Google your piece. firstname.lastname@example.org
Around 1 am I was dancing in the center of the room, just spinning and spinning. Then I heard a terrible sound. I had elbowed you in the nose! I was so embarrassed. Were you bleeding? I didn’t stay to find out. If you can forgive me, I’d love to buy you a drink. I promise to keep my elbows to myself. email@example.com
So there you have it. Also, we got an update from our legendary Issue 9 missed connection.
Sorry to report that things didn’t pan out. The first date went gangbusters, involving a rooftop Bushwick Open Studios afterparty and copious amounts of rum punch and dancing. Second date also went well, I thought (Exit Through the Gift Shop followed by a few drinks—not my most creative production, but y’know, the movie was pretty good); but she parted with “So good to see you!,” like she’d just had coffee with an old boss.
After she’d begged off on a couple of proposed follow-ups, I urged her to come clean; she told me that she wasn’t interested in pursuing things further. “I do find you attractive, I’m just not interested” were her last words—an honest but terrifying answer.
Despite these sad tidings, please continue sending us your missed connections—anonymously or not—at editors at nplusonemag.com.