Life
by Mike Camerlengo on December 23, 2013

Per the post on Craigslist:

To the girl on the bus – m4w (East Village)

Hey there. I saw you on the bus last night. Yes I still take the bus because I don't have enough money to own a car. What's up with this economy, right? 

I hope this finds you well. You were wearing a jacket of sorts with a blue shirt underneath. I honestly don't remember much else about your outfit but since we were in pretty tight quarters I was able to capture a whiff of your hair and let me tell you, it was excellent! Was that Pantene Pro-V? Maybe some kind of Paul Mitchell thing? I actually use Head and Shoulders year round because of my pesky dandruff. It used to smell really weird and itch my scalp but they've really improved the product so now you can light a match around my head and nothing will explode. 

You may remember me as the guy who kept locking eyes with you. Actually I was just staring at your face but when you looked up a couple of times to see what stop we were at, there I was! You were chatting with your friend, who was also very cute, (tell her I said hi) about some kind of Christmas party. It sounded like fun, maybe we could go together even though I won't know anyone there, thus making it awkward as shit. 

I was going to chime in about the time I dressed up like Santa at a work party and starting grinding with the cleaning lady. Do people still say grind? I hope so because it's a cool word. It's basically dry humping with your clothes on while Jadakiss plays in the background. 

I would love to take you out on a date sometime, although I'll probably say “meet up for drinks” to keep it sounding casual and limit my costs. Steak is expensive! I'll order whiskey on the rocks to try and look manly and then when you go to the bathroom I'll have the bartender dump a bunch of ginger ale into the glass. The carbonation also helps my stomach since I get nervous farts when I think I may have to kiss someone. 

After awhile you'll say you're tired because there's only so much of my Flag Football Championship stories you can handle. I don't blame you but at the same time we did have two crazy comebacks in one weekend so they're kind of a big part of me now. I'll ask if you want to hit up a “cute, awesome mixology bar” for a quick nightcap. You'll somehow some yes because you're a woman and women love mixology. 

I'll pretend I have to take a piss before we go and run to the bathroom to Google if mixology bars are real or something I saw in the movie Demolition Man. If real, I'll need to find out if they take Visa gift cards since I made my mother send me a bunch in order to do my Christmas shopping. After 10 minutes I'll find one that's 14 blocks away but by the time I come out of the bathroom you're positive I just dropped the hammer with a monster dump. You want to go home. 

I'll volunteer to walk you home but something about the flakes on my shoulders (why'd I wear a black shirt?), combined with the giant hole in my Chuck Taylor's is really killing any vibe we could have had. I'll give you a hug and you accept but it's the kind of hug you give someone when they're getting out of prison, never to be seen again; tight, no eye contact and a couple of back pats to send you on your way. 

On my way home I'll text you how much fun I had and you'll think about changing your number. It's not that you didn't have fun, it's just that you're getting a little older and you can't be fucking around with a guy who has sweat stains around his collar and keeps inviting you to his improv show in the back of a restaurant. 

I'll remember the one point in the night when you laughed and touched my arm and will continue to think we're made for each other. I'll text you every time I see a mixology bar for the next 6 months. Eventually you'll lose your phone, have to get a new number and my texts will be gone forever. A mere memory of what could have been. 

We'll never see each other again but 5 years from now, another date will bring you to the same bar we went to. You'll spend most of the time saying how awful I was and by comparison you'll realize this guy looks pretty damn good. You guys will have sex, get married and buy a boat. 

I'll be just fine don't you worry. I'll also settle down but after a series of unfortunate tax mistakes, spend some time in a white-collar jail where my Flag Football stories are very popular. 

So what do you say? Want to meet up for drinks? Could be fun. . .

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