Your hand brushed against mine during our introductory econ class. We both mumbled sorry, and I was too scared to ask for your number. Want to see if our supply and demand curves intersect?
You: tall, husky, belligerently drunk lacrosse player. Me: stunning, dark haired vixen wearing a green sweater and black skirt. You spilled beer on me while gesticulating wildly at that party, and I regret not asking for your room number before you passed out.
Saw you by the library on Tuesday. You: young, petite figure, curly, blonde hair, wearing jeans, a red T-shirt and a backpack. Me: older, balding, gray hair, limping, peg leg, eye patch, parrot on my shoulder. Wanna fuck a pirate?
We met at that party where they were serving Busch Light, then we walked around looking for another party. We talked about how busy we are and made strained conversation about the one class we share in common. Join me for a horribly awkward dinner sometime?
I saw you in the library and stole a lock of your hair while you weren’t paying attention. Help me complete my hair-doll?
You: Waiflike, stringy blonde hair, bloodshot eyes, snorting a white substance on the 4th floor women’s restroom of Lauinger. Ritalin? Cocaine? Hot. Interested in doing lines together?
I saw you on the 7 a.m. GUTS to Dupont. You just got off your janitorial shift making $2.50 an hour and were heading to your third job making tiny snowglobes for ungrateful obese children in Manhattan. Care to share your living wage with me?
You: beautiful, sexy, cold sores. Me: handsome, well-built, painful urination. Our eyes met at the VD clinic. It’s herpes, wanna find out if it’s forever?
You: beautiful, blond in grey sweater. Me: deluded into thinking that beautiful, blond women like you actually read the ‘I Saw You’ section of newspapers. Call me, and we can discuss my slipping and increasingly delusional grasp on reality.
Me: Sexy, intelligent, tall, handsome guy with stunning personality and amazing sense of humor wearing Diesel jeans and fine Italian shoes. You: Girl. Call me. You shan’t regret it.
You: red-faced, disgruntled, tire-deep in the reflecting pool astride a tractor. Me: tobacco farmer enthusiast. Wanna get together and issue unreasonable demands over coffee and cigarettes?
I saw you at on the swing set outside of your school. You: pigtails, school uniform, slap bracelet. Me: trenchcoat, blue-blockers, candy in my pockets, windowless van. Wanna meet for coffee and to discuss why 15’ll get you 20?
We shared an elevator ride in Harbin. We both stared blankly ahead and didn’t exchange any words. Is it love? Call me. Or don’t, I have a pretty good idea of where you live either way.
You: professor. Me: student. Wanna get fired?
