Post by Alexandra Bishop on Mar 14, 2016 20:45:28 GMT
I was gonna write this at the end of my work day, but a fire drill went off. So, here it is, a bit more hastily written than I otherwise would've liked. Hope you enjoy!
lavender headphones - m4w (Harvard)
yesterday - you hopped on the bus and fireworks went off.
'i like your ring'
ill hop on at harvard until we meet again...
I didn't expect an actual response to my posting to Craiglist. I mean, who actually reads the missed connections sections? And more importantly, who actually responds to them?
Yet, here I am. One new message in my email, subject: “lavender headphones.” I gotta admit, I was a bit nervous to open it.
“hey
))))
thanks for noticing my headphones, i luv them!!!!!!!!
i have a good memory mayb ill remember you???
stephenie”
That was it. No attachments. I think I stared at the message in disbelief for close to five minutes, just trying to come to grips with the weird situation. I posted the message in a moment of weakness and a bit of poor decision (and drink). Yet, here we were.
I decided to reply. Why not, right?
I told her who I was, giving a brief description. Matt, somewhat tall and lanky, wore a Patriots sweatshirt and beanie hat. Sat towards the back of the bus, behind her, and she probably didn't see me. I read it over, and decided to add a few misspellings in there (I didn't want her to think I was smarter than her or something like that), and then clicked send.
Then thought nothing of it as I went about my day. I work in an office in Boston, programming. I hide in my cubicle most of the time, with my headphones on. I kind of hope that no one ever pays any attention to me, frankly, I'm terrible at talking to people. I'd just as soon not do it. To get to my office, I have to ride the Harvard bus, and I found myself searching for lavendar headphones, on the off-chance that I was lucky.
I was not.
Work passes as it always does, slowly and with too much free time. I don't want to brag, but I'm a decent enough programmer, so there's a lot of downtime. I tend to keep myself busy by browsing the internet, but in a strange way, the internet can start to feel small after a while. When you're in an office and you keep up with a few websites, after you check them for the millionth time, you start clicking click-bait and hating yourself for it. Time passes slowly.
One new message.
“hey matt
oh yea i remember you!!!! dont know much about football but luv the pats!!!! tom brady is SOOOOOOO hot omg
you were cute. smile emoticon where r u now
stephenie”
Well, there she is again. I'll admit, I blushed a little at the cute comment. It's not often that I get told that, or really any kind of compliments outside of my programming work. I must've looked ridiculous, turning into a tomato at my desk. I reply to the message quickly, telling her a bit about football and then about my job. Almost immediately, I get a response.
“you work in an office thats so awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so jealous haha. i work at walmart. people are such assholes
i hate it here
tell me about ur job!!!!!”
I can't help but feel a bit of guilt over having a job like I do and finding it painfully dull on most days. So, rather than tell her that, I embellish, make up a bit of a story and use the proper buzzwords to convey how great it is. I talk about the company, how I believe in the product, how I love what I do, and all kinds of other bullshit they tell you when you're in college.
“i am terrible w ith computers mine always breaks haha!! maybe you can fix it sumtime???”
I tell her that I'm not much of an IT guy.
“it guy?”
No, IT guy. Like Information Technology. Guys who fix computers.
“oh well you must kno sumthin!!!!!!!!!”
And we continue like this.
For hours.
By the time five o'clock rolls around I realize I haven't done hardly any work. I shrug though—I'm ahead anything. I pack up my things and pull out my phone, happy to see a text from Stephenie (I gave her number after an hour or two of messages). I text her all the way home, even tell her I'm on the Harvard bus. She laughs.
I text her at home. I text her all night. I text her when I get up. I text her at work.
We agree to have dinner that night. She gets out of work early so she'll get us a good table. Apparently, she “luvs” the Cheesecake Factory and can't wait to have me try one of their insanely chocolatey cakes. I tell her it sounds great. We agree on a time, she agrees to text me when she gets there.
I get on the Harvard bus just as phone rings. She's there.
I'm running late, and it's starting to rain. I run inside the restaurant ten minutes later than expected. She knows this—we've been texting the whole way. I walk inside and tell the server I'm looking for Stephenie. She smiles too widely at me and tells me to follow her. She leads me towards the back of the restaurant, where a number of booths for two line the wall.
I see the lavender headphones over a small head of blonde hair. Well, purple, really. They look new, shiny. She looks up, a small round face with eyes that seem a bit too large for her head. My eyes meet her gentle brown ones.
In that glance, she tells me she knows that I made up the Craigslist ad. She knows that I never saw her on the Harvard bus, because she's never been on it herself. She bought the lavender headphones on the way over here—the packaging is in her purse.
She smiles at me.
I return it, and walk over.
“Stephenie?” I ask.
She nods. “Matt?”
I nod. “Were you lonely too?”
There's a brief pause, then she smiles wide, showing her teeth. “The one nice thing about being lonely is that you're not alone.”
I sit down across from her, and we pick up where we left off.
lavender headphones - m4w (Harvard)
yesterday - you hopped on the bus and fireworks went off.
'i like your ring'
ill hop on at harvard until we meet again...
I didn't expect an actual response to my posting to Craiglist. I mean, who actually reads the missed connections sections? And more importantly, who actually responds to them?
Yet, here I am. One new message in my email, subject: “lavender headphones.” I gotta admit, I was a bit nervous to open it.
“hey
))))thanks for noticing my headphones, i luv them!!!!!!!!
i have a good memory mayb ill remember you???
stephenie”
That was it. No attachments. I think I stared at the message in disbelief for close to five minutes, just trying to come to grips with the weird situation. I posted the message in a moment of weakness and a bit of poor decision (and drink). Yet, here we were.
I decided to reply. Why not, right?
I told her who I was, giving a brief description. Matt, somewhat tall and lanky, wore a Patriots sweatshirt and beanie hat. Sat towards the back of the bus, behind her, and she probably didn't see me. I read it over, and decided to add a few misspellings in there (I didn't want her to think I was smarter than her or something like that), and then clicked send.
Then thought nothing of it as I went about my day. I work in an office in Boston, programming. I hide in my cubicle most of the time, with my headphones on. I kind of hope that no one ever pays any attention to me, frankly, I'm terrible at talking to people. I'd just as soon not do it. To get to my office, I have to ride the Harvard bus, and I found myself searching for lavendar headphones, on the off-chance that I was lucky.
I was not.
Work passes as it always does, slowly and with too much free time. I don't want to brag, but I'm a decent enough programmer, so there's a lot of downtime. I tend to keep myself busy by browsing the internet, but in a strange way, the internet can start to feel small after a while. When you're in an office and you keep up with a few websites, after you check them for the millionth time, you start clicking click-bait and hating yourself for it. Time passes slowly.
One new message.
“hey matt
oh yea i remember you!!!! dont know much about football but luv the pats!!!! tom brady is SOOOOOOO hot omg
you were cute. smile emoticon where r u now
stephenie”
Well, there she is again. I'll admit, I blushed a little at the cute comment. It's not often that I get told that, or really any kind of compliments outside of my programming work. I must've looked ridiculous, turning into a tomato at my desk. I reply to the message quickly, telling her a bit about football and then about my job. Almost immediately, I get a response.
“you work in an office thats so awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so jealous haha. i work at walmart. people are such assholes
i hate it here
tell me about ur job!!!!!”
I can't help but feel a bit of guilt over having a job like I do and finding it painfully dull on most days. So, rather than tell her that, I embellish, make up a bit of a story and use the proper buzzwords to convey how great it is. I talk about the company, how I believe in the product, how I love what I do, and all kinds of other bullshit they tell you when you're in college.
“i am terrible w ith computers mine always breaks haha!! maybe you can fix it sumtime???”
I tell her that I'm not much of an IT guy.
“it guy?”
No, IT guy. Like Information Technology. Guys who fix computers.
“oh well you must kno sumthin!!!!!!!!!”
And we continue like this.
For hours.
By the time five o'clock rolls around I realize I haven't done hardly any work. I shrug though—I'm ahead anything. I pack up my things and pull out my phone, happy to see a text from Stephenie (I gave her number after an hour or two of messages). I text her all the way home, even tell her I'm on the Harvard bus. She laughs.
I text her at home. I text her all night. I text her when I get up. I text her at work.
We agree to have dinner that night. She gets out of work early so she'll get us a good table. Apparently, she “luvs” the Cheesecake Factory and can't wait to have me try one of their insanely chocolatey cakes. I tell her it sounds great. We agree on a time, she agrees to text me when she gets there.
I get on the Harvard bus just as phone rings. She's there.
I'm running late, and it's starting to rain. I run inside the restaurant ten minutes later than expected. She knows this—we've been texting the whole way. I walk inside and tell the server I'm looking for Stephenie. She smiles too widely at me and tells me to follow her. She leads me towards the back of the restaurant, where a number of booths for two line the wall.
I see the lavender headphones over a small head of blonde hair. Well, purple, really. They look new, shiny. She looks up, a small round face with eyes that seem a bit too large for her head. My eyes meet her gentle brown ones.
In that glance, she tells me she knows that I made up the Craigslist ad. She knows that I never saw her on the Harvard bus, because she's never been on it herself. She bought the lavender headphones on the way over here—the packaging is in her purse.
She smiles at me.
I return it, and walk over.
“Stephenie?” I ask.
She nods. “Matt?”
I nod. “Were you lonely too?”
There's a brief pause, then she smiles wide, showing her teeth. “The one nice thing about being lonely is that you're not alone.”
I sit down across from her, and we pick up where we left off.