A few days ago alert reader and fellow Blue Man employee Lindsey asks me, "Do you go to (local coffee shop) Caribou (Coffee) a lot?"
"No," I answer. "I was there the other day. They were giving away free drinks...why?"
"Becasue I saw a listing on Craigslist that reminded me of one of your blog posts."
Ok, because I know that my mom reads this, I will take a brief moment to explain Craigslist. Craigslist is an on-line community with many different functions. On of the more common ones is buy and selling things. Another function is personal ads that ask for the most explicitly disturbing sexual acts like they are ordering a side of bacon. And if you are too shy to just come out and ask for bacon...I mean sex, they have a section called Missed Connections. This is where lonely and/or painfully shy people post notes about people they either missed the opportunity to talk to or were too socially awkward to approach in the first place.
So I go home and look at the Chicago section of Missed Connections and find this:
Drew Carey lookalike--Caribou Regular - m4m
Reply to: XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Date: 2006-06-21, 10:26PM
You know who you are. You have an admirer in me.
*****
Now, for the uninitiated (mom, I'm looking at you), m4m means male for male. In other words (do I really need to spell this out mom?) it is a man who is looking for another man. Or, in a word: GAY.
Now, I'm just narcissistic enough to want everyone to love me. I want single women and gay men to swoon over my every move. I want straight men and lesbians to reconsider their sexual orientation based on the cut of my jeans. I want people to want me or want to be me. I suspect it's because I wasn't hugged enough as a child. (That's not about you at all mom. I'm talking about dad...because he doesn't have a computer. He'll never read this.)
Anyway, I was flattered. I still am. When I showed it to Jen she said, "Awesome, I have a trophy husband!"
Now every time I walk past that coffee shop I stare in the windows and wonder, "Is it you middle aged realtor? Is it you unemployed screenwriter? Is it you overweight, swarthy sci-fi enthusiast? You sit there sipping your coffee, sweating through your Star Fleet uniform and rifling awkwardly through your comic books, but I know it's only because I am nearby. You are unsettled by my beauty. But in the privacy of your own bedroom (most likely in your mother's basement) you are at the helm of your own galaxy-class cruiser. Millions of lives depend on your every move. Lead on rocket man! Through worm holes and asteroid belts I fear no evil as you are my captain. I'd follow you into hell you magnificent bastard!"
I'd love to type more, but Caribou opens in six and a half hours and this tuxedo ain't gonna press itself!
swarthy? I've never really thought of myself as swarthy...