Why would I want to buy tickets from someone who uses "plz call me bfore 11am as i want to sell these asaps!!" ?
Or, in a personal ad, I suggest writing more than "What 'sup tonight? Feelin bored and lonely and just wanna text and we'll see where it goez. Hit me up. 22 m/6'1/built/no 4:20/yes alcohol"
Thus, following a very normal trip to a coffee shop yesterday after which I said to myself, "Hey, dumbass, learn how to have real conversations with people," I considered the best way to solve this issue. The issue at hand is my socialization with others. But I decided that my procrastination needed some creative stimulation, rather than serious introspection about myself, thus I created a solution to a problem which really isn't a problem for an issue that I really don't care much about, while at the same time elevating the level of Craigslist vocabulary and writing style exponentially for seven days.
So, I present the following for your amusement:
"Adventures in Craigslist Creative Writing: A Missed Connection"
To: Cute barista
From: Me
So I walked into Olympic Coffee at about 5:30 Saturday afternoon (wearing glasses and a blue Sounders FC half-zip sweatshirt) and you were working. I didn't just walk in - I wandered in aimlessly looking for bags of coffee or some signage indicating that you sold coffee for at-home use. I think this aimlessness is what made you take note and say "What can I get for you?" "Do you sell coffee by the pound," I embarrassingly asked. "We do!" you pleasantly replied, and you proceeded to show me the giant bins of coffee beans all nicely labeled. Yet, despite the labels, I wanted to try and get some minor spark of conversation going, so in all my brilliance I said "What different flavors do you have?" You smiled and said "Well..." and then continued by reading off at least ten different flavors, even making sure to inform me of which one happened to be out at the moment. I stared and listened and when you finished I dumbly answered "Oh. Hmmm...," as if any of the names meant anything to me as I pretended to contemplate my choice. Then, in order to talk to you slightly more and in order to actually find the coffee that would work best for what I was looking for, I asked "So out of all of those, what is your darkest roast?" And THEN came the moment that confirmed my initial suspicion the first time I glanced at you and saw your eyes: this person isn't just cute and friendly, she's kind and helpful and intelligent, too. And what happened in this moment which convinced me of this? You didn't just tell me your darkest roast, rather, you said "Well, the Sumatran blend is the darkest we have, but for a dark roast with better flavor I'd recommend..." So there it was. A considerate and well-thought out recommendation. I was officially smitten (okay, not really, but still - kind and considerate and it made me take even more interest in you).
From this point onward you kindly asked me about how I'd like the beans ground, and then informed me of the special 12oz. drink that comes for free with buying a pound of coffee, and then you made me a great Americano whilst I talked about the dearth of quality coffee places in Port Orchard, and then I left and wished you a nice evening. There was no real flirtation (although I suspect I had a big goofy smile on my face and probably did my best to avoid eye contact), and your smile and attitude were both amazingly radiant in a fairly poorly lit environment after having just come in from the bright sun breaks which followed the brief hailstorm. Yet, despite the superficiality of it all, something about you and your glasses, brown hair, bright smile, shiny jewelry, pleasant voice, kind conversation, the way in which you handled the giant bin of coffee beans you pulled down with the ease and grace with which Ichiro handles a baseball bat, and just your overall niceness (for lack of a better word) stood out to me. But my favorite detail of the entire eight minutes I spent there was the fact that we had the exact same verbal exchange TWICE in the course of two minutes. When I walked over to the register to pay, you asked me how my day was going and I said good and asked you the same question and you also said good. When we moved over to the espresso machine while you made the Americano, there was a seemingly long pause and you were the first to fill it by saying "How's your day going so far?" and we were off and running once more.
Now, a normal rational person would probably take the awkward silence and the repetition of the same question which you likely ask all customers as a sign that there was in fact zero interest from you in anything beyond selling me great coffee and making an excellent Americano and you were just filling the dead air with pleasantries. But, of course, I am anything but normal when it comes to interacting with women. Misreading signs is my talent. Being socially awkward is my art. Silence and avoiding eye contact are my specialties. Misinterpreting what someone means when they say it to me is my forte. Thus, I would rather interpret our duplicate second round of pleasantries about the quality of each other's day as a sign that you 1) were so interested in me that you were overwhelmed and couldn't think of what to say or 2) are slightly socially awkward (in a cute way, of course) and therefore chose to repeat the same discourse.
Thus, in reviewing my immediate feelings and reaction to those eight minutes yesterday and in reviewing and reflecting upon what I have sputtered forth so far, the main point I hope to make is this: I like you as much as anyone could like anyone based upon this brief customer/employee type of interaction. I don't typically flirt or ask people for their numbers or do any of those charming things you see the male lead do in a romantic comedy. So, in order to compensate for my crippling awkwardness and general phobia of genuine interaction, I do things like THIS. Write a long essay to a stranger. But, while I see the oddness and potential creepiness of such a choice, there are only several possible outcomes: 1) this post will be completely ignored or likely never seen by anyone 2) this post will be discovered by a friend or coworker, shared with you, and you will be weirded out and hope to never see or hear from the person who wrote this 3) you will somehow find this and find it funny, oddly charming, but ignore it 4) you will somehow find this, have some sort of reaction to it, and send some sort of reply.
I don't know your eye color because it was too dark. I don't know your name. I don't know anything about you, really. But, life is short, Kitsap County is in short supply of quality human beings, and I liked you. Some of this was serious, and some of this was supposed to be kind of serious. I guess there're only one way for you to find out for sure. So, if this finds you somehow, then tag - you're it.
From: Me
So I walked into Olympic Coffee at about 5:30 Saturday afternoon (wearing glasses and a blue Sounders FC half-zip sweatshirt) and you were working. I didn't just walk in - I wandered in aimlessly looking for bags of coffee or some signage indicating that you sold coffee for at-home use. I think this aimlessness is what made you take note and say "What can I get for you?" "Do you sell coffee by the pound," I embarrassingly asked. "We do!" you pleasantly replied, and you proceeded to show me the giant bins of coffee beans all nicely labeled. Yet, despite the labels, I wanted to try and get some minor spark of conversation going, so in all my brilliance I said "What different flavors do you have?" You smiled and said "Well..." and then continued by reading off at least ten different flavors, even making sure to inform me of which one happened to be out at the moment. I stared and listened and when you finished I dumbly answered "Oh. Hmmm...," as if any of the names meant anything to me as I pretended to contemplate my choice. Then, in order to talk to you slightly more and in order to actually find the coffee that would work best for what I was looking for, I asked "So out of all of those, what is your darkest roast?" And THEN came the moment that confirmed my initial suspicion the first time I glanced at you and saw your eyes: this person isn't just cute and friendly, she's kind and helpful and intelligent, too. And what happened in this moment which convinced me of this? You didn't just tell me your darkest roast, rather, you said "Well, the Sumatran blend is the darkest we have, but for a dark roast with better flavor I'd recommend..." So there it was. A considerate and well-thought out recommendation. I was officially smitten (okay, not really, but still - kind and considerate and it made me take even more interest in you).
From this point onward you kindly asked me about how I'd like the beans ground, and then informed me of the special 12oz. drink that comes for free with buying a pound of coffee, and then you made me a great Americano whilst I talked about the dearth of quality coffee places in Port Orchard, and then I left and wished you a nice evening. There was no real flirtation (although I suspect I had a big goofy smile on my face and probably did my best to avoid eye contact), and your smile and attitude were both amazingly radiant in a fairly poorly lit environment after having just come in from the bright sun breaks which followed the brief hailstorm. Yet, despite the superficiality of it all, something about you and your glasses, brown hair, bright smile, shiny jewelry, pleasant voice, kind conversation, the way in which you handled the giant bin of coffee beans you pulled down with the ease and grace with which Ichiro handles a baseball bat, and just your overall niceness (for lack of a better word) stood out to me. But my favorite detail of the entire eight minutes I spent there was the fact that we had the exact same verbal exchange TWICE in the course of two minutes. When I walked over to the register to pay, you asked me how my day was going and I said good and asked you the same question and you also said good. When we moved over to the espresso machine while you made the Americano, there was a seemingly long pause and you were the first to fill it by saying "How's your day going so far?" and we were off and running once more.
Now, a normal rational person would probably take the awkward silence and the repetition of the same question which you likely ask all customers as a sign that there was in fact zero interest from you in anything beyond selling me great coffee and making an excellent Americano and you were just filling the dead air with pleasantries. But, of course, I am anything but normal when it comes to interacting with women. Misreading signs is my talent. Being socially awkward is my art. Silence and avoiding eye contact are my specialties. Misinterpreting what someone means when they say it to me is my forte. Thus, I would rather interpret our duplicate second round of pleasantries about the quality of each other's day as a sign that you 1) were so interested in me that you were overwhelmed and couldn't think of what to say or 2) are slightly socially awkward (in a cute way, of course) and therefore chose to repeat the same discourse.
Thus, in reviewing my immediate feelings and reaction to those eight minutes yesterday and in reviewing and reflecting upon what I have sputtered forth so far, the main point I hope to make is this: I like you as much as anyone could like anyone based upon this brief customer/employee type of interaction. I don't typically flirt or ask people for their numbers or do any of those charming things you see the male lead do in a romantic comedy. So, in order to compensate for my crippling awkwardness and general phobia of genuine interaction, I do things like THIS. Write a long essay to a stranger. But, while I see the oddness and potential creepiness of such a choice, there are only several possible outcomes: 1) this post will be completely ignored or likely never seen by anyone 2) this post will be discovered by a friend or coworker, shared with you, and you will be weirded out and hope to never see or hear from the person who wrote this 3) you will somehow find this and find it funny, oddly charming, but ignore it 4) you will somehow find this, have some sort of reaction to it, and send some sort of reply.
I don't know your eye color because it was too dark. I don't know your name. I don't know anything about you, really. But, life is short, Kitsap County is in short supply of quality human beings, and I liked you. Some of this was serious, and some of this was supposed to be kind of serious. I guess there're only one way for you to find out for sure. So, if this finds you somehow, then tag - you're it.
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