I saw you at the Space Capone show at Cannery Ballroom. We locked eyes a couple of times, but there was never really an opportunity for me to come say hello (stupid loud music). You ended up leaving a bit earlier than me.
You were wearing a dress and were sporting some zombie makeup and teased blonde hair.
I know it’s a long shot, but if this is you, shoot me an email. I’d be happy to buy you a coffee or drink sometimes. Either a pic or if you can tell me what I was wearing (as best you can remember) will suffice as proof you’re the right person.
Well written, but more than a little vague. I was at this show, and there were a fair number of zombie ladies milling about. Basically you’re asking every blond woman dressed as the undead to remember the wardrobe of every man she made eye contact with that night. Now, I wasn’t hovering over your shoulder, so perhaps it was an instance of “locked eyes,” but I mean, sometimes people zone out and kind of absentmindedly gaze around the room and suddenly you see someone doing the exact same thing and before you can turn your head they catch you and NOW YOUR EYES ARE LOCKED ... and what if they think you were staring at them, you weren’t it was a total accident, and oh man you have to quickly look away but then THAT just looks guilty like you were caught being a stalker, and now you have to RUN AWAY because what if they keep looking over at you to see if you’re doing it again, and you will, because now it’s a thing and you’re a total weirdo. What I’m saying is, interactions with other humans are difficult, and that’s why we invented alcohol, so take her out for a drink rather than coffee, if you find her.
You were dressed as Slash last night. A group of girls pulled up your shirt and licked you to take a photo. Wish I could have been one of the girls.
My immediate question is, who was this Slash and where can I find a copy of this picture, because that sounds both sexy and fascinating. My follow-up question is, why is the w4w section of Nashville’s Missed Connections is always so barren? Your gay brothers are obviously cool enough to take advantage, even in the likely instance (much like this one) that the object of dude's affections is straight. But I’m sure Slash is flattered! Come on, ladies: Provide some anonymous, sexy fodder for your local bloggers/perverts!
And finally, this one is a little older, but I wouldn’t be doing my feminist duty if I didn’t help a sister out:
You started dancing with me at Chromeo last night and then when I asked your name you gave me your first name and said your last but I couldn’t hear you—and that was it. I felt bad because I was with someone else but I still wanted to at least know your last name. If this sounds familiar, email me and tell me your first name.
Being a w myself, I feel pretty comfortable in translating this so the mystery m can fully understand her request: “That ‘someone’ I was with means nothing to me, but I didn’t want to come off as rude in public. I would like to know your last name so I can find you on Facebook and segue that into eventual sex.”
Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m feeling pretty good about my between-the-lines reading comprehension here.
Best of luck!