Craigslist Missed Connections: Cry Me a River

Internet connection + disillusioned emo boy = sad, vitriolic Craigslist Missed Connections post:

that was so awesome! - m4w - 22 Reply to: pers-170800769@craigslist.org Date: 2006-06-12, 4:04PM CDT

...when you didnt call me back to go out together, as planned. it was even cooler when i went out with a couple of chums (post your negligant call) to the beauty bar to see you arrive in said locale with another boy! gosh, you seemed suprised to see me there! why was that, do you think? this town is too small, and i suspect it's your fault. cunt.

We can just see the poor little guy, as his shoegazing hopes got up just so they could get down...

He sits, waiting, at home, on something Danish modern, sculpting his mussed hair for 90 minutes, constantly readjusting his white rivet-belt and giving himself the "Gray Velvet" (emo version of "Blue Steel"), waiting for the phone call from the girl with the bright yellow pleather purse and chocolate 80s boots he met at the Fall Out Boy show ("because it's just so beautiful," he answered, when she asked him why he was crying in the women's restroom at Emo's. Again.). He keeps checking his Sidekick to make sure he has it set to ring (Beta Band's "Assessment," because it's totes fave and "classic") and not vibrate. His perpetual whiny monologue picks up a neurotic pace:

"Where is she? She said she 'maybe wanted to, possibly, get together with me sometime this weekend, if she decides to shed her lesbianism' when I cornered her drunk ass at Whisky Bar last Thursday. She'd flip over this new+old smoking jacket, and my facial hair is looking sweet. What gives?

Screw it. I'm gonna call up my chums. I call them that, 'cause I spent a year two weeks abroad and the slang kinda sticks, you know. And my chums and I, we like to throw down with other like-minded chums at little dives like the Beauty Bar..."

He arrives at said dive with three other guys he knows only through shared MySpace friends and orders a Gin and Tonic, because "that's what they drink in France." Ten minutes, three sips, and four half-smoked Parliaments later, she strides in with the frontman of a Bulgarian gypsy ska band. Before jumping the fence and leaving his credit card at the bar, he delivers a death glare from across a sea of self-conscious hipsters trying to enjoy themselves while "dancing." Then it's home just as fast as his withered hamstrings will take him on his "vintage" Campagnolo to pen a Missed Connection and look for his pride.

Come on, champ. Be a man. Don't get mad, get even. We suggest next time you show up to the Beauty Bar in a bathing suit and treat yourself to some therapy a la our perpetually dateless editor Matthew Odam: order a Cherry Coke (they're free!) and get yoself a manicure, ya misogynist masturbator.