Browsing the Craigslist Missed Connections

“It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.”
― Andre Gide

Sometimes I browse the Craigslist missed connections section to see if someone out there saw me, found me incredibly attractive, and thought about me so much they had to go online and see if they could locate me. I held importance in that person’s life, however brief it may have been, and they took the unlikely chance to meet me. For a moment in time, I was wanted.

There was an era when someone wanting me was enough. No pursuit needed. You want me? I’m yours. I would go out of my way to ignore every red flag presented, too. Instead of choosing relationships, I let relationships choose me, regardless of the toxicity levels. To ensure I always remained wanted, I became a master in the art of people-pleasing, usually at the expense of myself and eventually the relationship.

But most of us want to be wanted, right? Being wanted is something I never felt growing up, so I’ve been on an endless search to find even a glimpse of it, regardless of whether it’s good, and usually to my detriment. Of course, there are varying levels of being wanted, and whether it’s good or bad is highly dependent on who the “wanter” is. It’s quite different when it’s a stalker or the police. We aren’t talking about that, though. We’re talking about being wanted and loved in ways that make us dance around the room, smile as soon as that text hits, and lose sleep because we can’t stop thinking about the other person.

Love is an incredible feeling. This emotion, so full of possibilities, takes over every aspect of our lives, making us into people that those closest to us often don’t recognize. It changes us. We search for it everywhere, too. Even on Craigslist. And the missed connections section is a great way to look for love when you don’t want to put in much effort — find someone so enamored with you that they log into Craigslist, write a description about how the encounter is etched in their mind, and then hopefully fall in love over coffee reminiscing about the time they saw you from across the room. Or at Trader Joe’s in the produce aisle.

Foolproof.

Love is great and all, but feeling attractive is a fickle beast, even for men. We just don’t talk about it. One day I can look in the mirror and be happy with what’s reflected, and other days I notice all the imperfections, the tiredness, the years of trying to destroy myself wrapped up indiscriminately in a package I sometimes have difficulty recognizing. What I see is a big nose, receding hairline, and what one Circle K clerk described as a “big-ole melon head.” He was having a rough day, I think. I don’t recall what I did to provoke such malice, but we laughed about it at the register like old friends do, and afterward in my car while unwrapping my overpriced Starbucks cold coffee, I confirmed in the mirror his findings and drove home in silence. You’ve done that before, right?

I also had an ex-girlfriend, in not so many words, casually suggest I look like a bird, the prominence of my nose providing an apt comparison. I wouldn’t be able to, especially in a court of law with the evidence plainly visible, dispute any of these claims.

However, to oppose the Court’s findings and various true observations by ex-girlfriends and Circle K clerks, I present that I am in the best shape of my life because of my unhealthy obsession with trail running. Haruki Murakami once said, “An unhealthy soul requires a healthy body.” This is especially true for me. One out of two isn’t bad, I guess.

I’ve also been told my green eyes are beautiful, so that’s something. You just have to look around the bird nose and not get distracted by the melon head. It’s a tough task; just ask the Circle K clerk.

If you put it all together, I have no idea what it means other than feeling attractive is something I think most of us want, but have so much difficulty achieving — regardless of what we’ve done to improve ourselves. We want to be wanted, and part of that is feeling attractive.

Dating, like feeling attractive, is also a fickle beast. I’m sure you’ve seen the meme that says a simple hello can lead to years of therapy, for both parties. I’ve probably maxed out my therapy allowance already, though. But I like the possibility of love, even with the unpredictability of today’s dating landscape and years of future therapy — that it’s just hanging in the air somewhere, drifting around until it finds an unsuspecting person and envelops them in its warm embrace. Or its crushing weight. Your experience may vary.

Love is not the enemy, however. It’s the bitterness, animosity, lies, and lack of respect for the other person and the relationship itself that so often manifest when hearts get involved. My, how we change when we fall in love (and especially out of it).

What’s so hard is trying to measure the possibility of love against the probability of spending nights broken down on my bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling, talking to the walls. I like possibilities, but respect probabilities. I’m not sure where that leaves me.

But the chance I end up on Craigslist as a wanted man is slim. (By another person or the police.) The possibility I respond to the ad and end up in a blissful, eternal partnership is even slimmer. The odds are not in my, or your, favor.

There’s a song by Amos Lee titled "Arms of a Woman." The song is gorgeous with a touch of melancholy; his voice hypnotic and soothing. In it, Lee sings:

I am at ease
In the arms of a woman
Although now most of my days are spent alone

Like Lee, I am at ease in the arms of a woman, but most of my days are spent alone. Maybe that will change. Maybe it won’t.

But as I close the Craigslist missed connections browser window devoid of my name or likeness, I know I’ll be back. There’s hope in it. And sometimes, that is enough.

“How wild it was, to let it be.”
― Cheryl Strayed