Craigslust

Today's blog is brought to you by Weird Al. This post may not actually have that much to do with me being in Tronts. It may not actually make a lot of sense either. I'm in a strange mood. I feel silly like a kid. I've returned to my rudiments. My rudimentary self writes a lot of short sentences.

I've been thinking a lot about human nature and individual behaviour spectrums. Deep, I know. In particular I've been cogitating over lust and desire and our ability to rationalise what would otherwise be considered aberrant behaviour when it comes to questions of sex and love and attraction. 

There's a website called Craigslist. It's not that big in Australia but over here and in the States, it's a pretty huge deal. Craigslist has a whole gamut of classifieds. Go there if you want a roommate or if you want to sell a bike/computer/child, or, as is my case, if you need a job. There is also a salacious section called 'missed connections' under the personal classifieds. My curiosity got the better of me.

This was my favourite:

westbound on college with greens - w4w (college/ossington)

I think you got on around Spadina, or perhaps earlier at UofT. I saw you waiting patiently for the streetcar with your bags of fresh groceries. I'm guessing you had just come from a farmer's market?

We smiled at each other like old friends and I spent the entirety of the ride trying to decide if I would get the nerve to move one seat ahead and talk to you; to ask your name and ask you if that was bok choy or collards. I wanted to blurt out - "You're Beautiful!" but thought it might be too forward.

You got off at Ossington and locked my eyes again and everything went a little blurry.

The light was red, so I sat in the idling machine and unsubtly watched you walk up the street and when you looked back into the window at me, I waved - couldn't help it.

I hope you are now cozy and out of the cold. Maybe we'll cross paths again.

ps - what did you make for dinner?

I couldn't help but think 'wtf'. The woman who wrote this is probably, by most definitions of the word, sane. Hell, she's probably some professional, an accountant or something like that, just on her way home on the streetcar, minding her own fucking business when 'WHAMMY!'. She got love struck. She got struck so bad that she felt the need to go home, ponder what the lady with the buk choy/collards (what a stupid freakin' name for a vegetable by the way) made for dinner, and put it on the internet. The internet. The World Wide Web.

What kind of person would put everything they're thinking on the World Wide Web...?