He says: "So, I'm guessing that I'm simply one of those ridiculous males who thinks, 'A pretty woman spoke to me. She must have a burning desire to date me. Even more, she's trolling craigslist hoping to find me!' "
We say: Likely candidate, my friend, but points for self-awareness.
He says: "Nevertheless, we were standing next to each other during Mike Farris's killer in-store at Grimey's. We were both kind of dancing and really into the music. After their encore of 'This Little Light of Mine' you did the double point at me and proclaimed, 'If that don't make you feel good, I don't know what will!' Though I had been trying to covertly eyeball you during the whole gig, I was totally taken off guard by your exclamation and blew it. I simply smiled and my mind went blank. I felt so awkward that I blew my opening, I couldn't summon the courage to speak to you again."
We say: Aww, that's kind of, well, it's kind of sad-pants cute. Although why dudes are always turned to total mush just 'cause a good-lookin' chick is around (ostensibly you're looking at them all day long) makes me wonder how you ever get anything done.
Then he says: "So, now I'm foolishly on craigslist trying to get that damn moment back! You were wearing a red skirt and cowboy boots. Your tiny little pig tails were super cute, too."
We say: [Record scratch.] Um, why does that last sentence weird us out so much? It's not just me. An informal poll indicates that all the women in the immediate vicinity felt inexplicably weird reading that sentence.
But then, he says: "If by some amazing fucking chance of undeserving, surreal luck you A) see this, and B) actually were interesting [sic] in speaking to me, drop a line. Tell me what I was wearing or some other descriptor so that some sadistic frat boy doesn't con me into meeting him, showing up at his apartment with flowers, and getting mercilessly beaten by his goons (or some other less violent but humiliating experience.)"
Which makes us wanna say: I guess you kind of won us back? A little? I dunno.