Sometimes I read the missed connections on  These are my favorites from yesterday’s postings:

Hot air balloon festival last Saturday – m4w – 34 (Kitsap)

I was in the yellow and red balloon, and you were in the blue and red balloon.  We made brief eye contact as we floated past each other.  I was trying to show off by juggling the weighted sandbags and accidentally released all of them.  I ended up in Idaho this morning after finally coming down.  When I get back, would you like to get a cup of coffee?  I promise, no more juggling.

Baltic Room this morning – m4w – 34 (Capitol Hill)

You gave me fruit snacks and a smile.

358 Metro bus last week – m4w

You had medium-length straight dark brown hair, glasses, a black jacket/coat, and were reading.  We made eye contact a few times, even though I tried out of respect to not be one of those men who stare at women on buses.  But your equal-parts wise, bemused, and ever-so-slightly tired expression captivated me.

On the bus – m4w – 22 (Seattle)

We both got on in the bus tunnel at the International District.  We were both wearing headphones, sitting across from each other.  Every time our eyes would meet, we would both smile and look away.  I wanted to say hi, but I thought that our headphones would hinder any conversation.  Want to grab coffee sometime?

Rattlesnake Ledge – m4w – 23 (North Bend)

You three ladies (two blondes and a brunette) were going up when my friend and I were coming down.  We made eye contact, said hi and continued on.

You really have no idea how hard it is to meet girls who like to hike (attractive ones, not the Granola type who don’t bathe or shave).  I was quite unprepared and out of my element, or I would have tried a line like: “Hey, mind taking a photo of me and my friend in front of this amazing Oregon grape?” Then we could have chatted and hiked together off into the wilderness.

Mt. Si sometime?

Biology class.  Your red hair, wild fantasies – m4w (UW)

We’re in the same biology class.  I try to think about molecules, but my thoughts get tangled up in thousands of curly, lemon-scented locks.  I try to think of everything I love about you, but you have too many freckles to compliment individually.

It doesn’t help that everything you say seems to resonate with a deep, unique understanding of the world.



You look nice alright
and I like the way you nod after everything I say
like it actually means something
to you

And I like your record collection
Townes and Jens with a hint of Rickie Lee
And you’ve cleaned up the bathroom, made a really nice soup
but a bit too much sci-fi in your shelf with DVD’s

There are things you need to know about me
I’m weak right now, so weak right now
I need proof before I dare to open this heart
so I prepared a quiz for you

Would you freak out if I said i liked you?
Do you walk the line
Is your IQ higher than your neighbour’s
And is it very much higher than mine

Can you sleep when I grind my teeth
Do you look away if I slob when I eat
Will you let me be myself
Can you at all times wear socks, because I’m still scared of feet

And if I’d fall, would you pick me up
And if I’d fall, would you pick me up

Do you talk in the middle of Seinfeld
Do you read more than two books a month
Do you get racist or sexist when you’ve had a few
Is it fine if I make more money than you

Have you slept with any people I work with
Is there anyone you’d rather wish I’d be
Do you still keep pictures of old girlfriends
Are they prettier than me

And if I’d fall, would you pick me up
If I’d fall, would you pick me up

When they speak of love they call it falling.

Forget bird watching.  I love security-guard watching.

How I wish, how I wish you were here | We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year | Running over the same old ground | What have you found? | The same old fears | Wish you were here

Jan. 9 marks my one month working part time at the University Book Store in Seattle.  I’m the mid-shift concierge.  I tell customers where the restroom is, give out parking validation, and occasionally work the switchboard.  Basically.

Oh, the complexity of dating.

Don’t worry, I’m still searching for a job in the journalism field.  It’s just going slow.  Very slow.  My career has taken a detour in the economic downturn — it’s hitting newspapers especially hard:  The Seattle Times is cutting its staff and rumor is the Seattle Post-Intelligencer is closing — but that’s OK.  I’ll work in a newsroom again.

It’s not easy.

I’ve already got lots and lots of stories from working at the UBookstore.  Mostly, they’re about my inability to inform customers when it’s my job to inform customers.  Seriously, my training was a joke.  I’ve compiled a FAQ list for the store — sort of adding the answers to (strange) questions as I learn them — but it doesn’t help much.  Customers have the knack of asking the questions nobody’s asked me yet.

Will someone please, please, please go to the movie theater and watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button with me?  I’ve wanted to see it ever since Christmas day.  And it’s not just because Brad Pitt is in the film.  He’s an incredible actor, yes, but the story promises to be just as incredible.

I just saw the worst comb-over in the history of comb-overs. Instead of combing the hair from the side of the head over his bald spot, this customer used hair from the back of his head. Pulled from his neck to his forehead, his hair looked like a helmet. And, at his forehead, where you’d expect to see a bang-like falling of hair, he had swooped the ends under in a wave of hair-sprayed wonder. Sadly, his helmet of hair wasn’t doing much to hide his bald spot.

Like that?  Check out  My concierge co-workers and I anonymously blog (read vent) about the goings-on at the UBookstore.

I figured it out:  During the last two months of our relationship, I’d been feeling emotionally isolated.  I’d said it in so many words, but didn’t really pay attention to what was happening.  According to an article in Psychology Today on attachment theory, we’d lost our connection, our link.  Because we were emotionally disconnected, the security of “depending on a partner to respond when you call, to know that you matter to him or her, that you are cherished” wasn’t there.  That feeling of insecurity is very distressing.

Call me Prof. Bruestle.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.  So throw off the bow-lines.  Sail away from the safe harbour.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover.” -Mark Twain

It’s almost like he’s dead.

That’s what it feels like, at least.  It really does.

I’ve never really experienced a death.  Not close, anyway:  He is my biggest loss thus far.

Part of me is grieving, but part of me is pushing forward.  I’ve got to continue on; put one foot in front of the other.  Just like anybody else.  And I will, and I am.

I lost him.  But he lost me, too.

Stephen and I ended our relationship.

He and I never really clicked.  Never reached best-friend status.  We’re too different, I guess.

Our enthusiasm for each other carried us at first.  Things were effortless.  Effortless and wonderful.  But relationships aren’t effortless; they aren’t easy.  Consciously or subconsciously, however, I think Stephen wanted it to be that way.  And when that enthusiasm petered out, I couldn’t carry us both.  Though, I did try.

Stephen and I talked ourselves into circles.  We disagreed on a handful of things — mainly from a lack of understanding — but we did agree on this:  that I was a good girlfriend, that he was a flake, and that it simply wasn’t meant to be.

I’m not bitter.  I’ll think fondly of the last six months.  I’ll never forget Stephen Michael Williams, my first (official) boyfriend.  I’ll never forget our first date or our first kiss.  Never.  And July 4 will be remembered as a special day, with or without fireworks.

Thank you for everything, Stephen.

Hey Stephen, I know looks can be deceiving
But I know I saw a light in you
And as we walked we were talking
I didn’t say half the things I wanted to

Of all the girls tossing rocks at your window
I’ll be the one waiting there even when it’s cold
Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing
I don’t always have to be alone

‘Cause I can’t help it if you look like an angel
Can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I’ve been feeling since I met you
Can’t help it if there’s no one else
Mmm, I can’t help myself

Hey Stephen, I’ve been holding back this feeling
So I got some things to say to you
I’ve seen it all, so I thought
But I never seen nobody shine the way you do

The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name
It’s beautiful, wonderful, don’t you ever change
Hey Stephen, why are people always leaving?
I think you and I should stay the same

‘Cause I can’t help it if you look like an angel
Can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I’ve been feeling since I met you
Can’t help it if there’s no one else
Mmm, I can’t help myself

They’re dimming the street lights, you’re perfect for me
Why aren’t you here tonight?
I’m waiting alone now, so come on and come out
And pull me near and shine, shine, shine

Hey Stephen, I could give you fifty reasons
Why I should be the one you choose
All those other girls, well, they’re beautiful
But would they write a song for you?

I can’t help it if you look like an angel
Can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I’ve been feeling since I met you
Can’t help it if there’s no one else
Mmm, I can’t help myself

If you look like an angel
Can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so
Come feel this magic I’ve been feeling since I met you
Can’t help it if there’s no one else
Mmm, I can’t help myself, myself

Can’t help myself
I can’t help myself


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