2020 Missed Connections
APRIL 1
Lincoln Park
(By the Shakespeare statue)
You were wearing a balaclava, sunglasses, a beanie, a scarf, mittens, and a winter coat. You asked me what my favorite pie was. Or maybe you told me to move out of the way. It was honestly hard to understand through the balaclava. It’s chocolate by the way, my favorite pie. Like the color of your eyes. Probably.
MAY 5
Humboldt Park
(By the paddle boats)
I told you I liked your mask. I think you misunderstood because you pepper sprayed me and left me on the ground yelling, “My eyes! My eyes!”
Let’s try again? I really did like your mask.
JUNE 24
Cafecito Coffee
(The Loop)
I was standing behind you when you ordered a cappuccino and they gave you a cortadito. I totally understood you, but maybe that’s just because I’m a good listener. Though I haven’t had anyone to listen to in a while… Actually, this message is as close as I’ve come to human contact in like 4 months haha. Anyway, maybe some time we can get a cappuccino? Or a cortadito haha. Get it? Because of your order? Am coming on too strong? That was a coffee joke haha. Call me! I have antibodies!
JULY 10
Logan Square
Brandon, it’s Julie. Look, if you’re reading this, I know I said I wanted to rip off your testicles and burn them and I wouldn’t touch you even if you were the last man on earth. But things change, I’m desperate now. Call me.
AUGUST 8
Costco
(Niles)
I could tell from the way your mask didn’t cover your nose that you’re a woman who isn’t afraid to get within 6 feet. Were all those chips in your cart for you or a gathering of 10 or more? Either way, I’m down to have sex if you are. I was the one with 30 packages of toilet paper in my cart. Don’t worry, my bowel functions are totally regular, I’m just a hoarder.
SEPTEMBER 17
Sal’s Liquors
You were buying red wine. I was buying red wine. I made an off-hand comment about how sharing a drink called loneliness was better than drinking alone. You walked away. I followed you down the street telling you it was just a Billy Joel song. You started walking faster. I lost you when you ducked into that ally behind the 7/11. Man, you’re fast. You must have run track or something. Maybe we can go jogging some time?
OCTOBER 31
Belmont and Halsted
You knocked on my door and I was surprised, as I wasn’t expecting company. Those big brown eyes seemed to say I also haven’t been touched in months, so I went for the kiss. You slapped me in the face, grabbed your son and left. I realize now that you were trick or treating. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry.
NOVEMBER 10
Michigan Ave.
(Outside Nordstroms)
You were looking at the holiday lights. We passed each other and made brief eye contact. Not only were you not wearing a mask, but you actually sneezed on an old lady next to you. Frankly, your blatant disregard for human life is repulsive, but I haven’t seen the bottom of anyone’s face in months and it made me rock hard, so call me.
DECEMBER
ARMITAGE STREET
(OUTSIDE KHIELS)
You were wearing a brown mask. I honestly don’t remember anything else about you, but here’s the deal.
I leave the door unlocked. You come in wearing a mask. I’ll be bending over in the entryway with my pants down, also wearing a mask. We don’t talk or touch. It’ll be over in less than 30 seconds, but we’ll both be okay with that because of that study about the likely of transmission in shorter intervals. Then you leave and we never speak again. Let me know if you’re down.
