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MISSED CONNECTIONS

Craigslist > Utah > Logan > Community > Missed Connections

August 20, 2010 Alex (Meadow View Apartments)

You moved out before I told you that I love you. I spent all summer falling asleep to the sound of your voice telling stories from the bed across the room. You told me story after story, and I wondered if you had ever told these stories to anyone else. I realized that I loved you the night you told me a stray dog followed you home from work, and you convinced your parents to let you keep her. I’ve never envied a dog so much. Maybe in two years, when you’re done being a Mormon missionary we can move in together again, and I can sleep six feet away from you. I think I could be happy for the rest of my life, if I could spend every night with you sleeping six feet away from me.


September 14, 2010 Mismatched Converse Guy (English 2600)

We never talked in class. That’s my bad. With your straight hair that stands up just right, like all the cool kids in my high school, I worried that I wouldn’t be cool enough. If you ever want to study together—and by study, I mean make out—message me. Tell me what color Converse you wore so I know it’s you. 



Craigslist > California > Carlsbad > Community > Missed Connections

April 6, 2013, Shirtless Man (San Remo Park)

I was one of the two Mormon missionaries who approached you in San Remo Park. I’d been a missionary for a year, so I knew how to talk to strangers, but I froze when we pulled up on our bikes. I thought I had crushed my attractions to men, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you. You said you weren’t interested in us teaching you about our faith. I am interested in having you teach me how to sin.



Craigslist > Utah > Logan > Community > Missed Connections

February 3, 2014 Alex (Night Janitor at the Taggart Student Center)

Where did you go? We got home from our California spring break trip on Sunday, and I haven’t seen you since, which feels intentional, since your bedroom is down the hall from mine. I thought we’d be inseparable when we got home from our missions, and we were, until we went to California, just the two of us. I wanted to show you all the places that I had lived while I was a missionary. I think I might have been too forward. On our drive home, I told you I loved you in the language you spoke on your mission: “Mahal Kita.” You got quiet, and turned away. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.


October 14, 2014 French Exchange Student (The Crepery)

When you brought me my crepe, you told me you had added some extra fillings, free of charge, because you thought I would like them. Then you blushed and hurried away. I should have kissed you on the mouth. I should have at least asked you for your number. I’m sorry. I’m still learning how to be gay. I recently got home from a Mormon mission and I’ve never been on a real date with a man. I’m ready to ask you out now. Put in the subject line what you added to my crepe, so I know it’s you.


October 12, 2015 Alex (Old Farm Apartments)

You sent a text after you moved out. I thought it meant you wanted to start a conversation. I didn’t realize that you only wanted the last word, that you’d never open my response. You told me that you had made promises to God to defend the traditional family. You told me you found a nice girl to date, who knew all about your baggage and who loved you anyway. I know all about you, and I love you. I know you well enough to know you won’t respond. Not to my text. Not here. Not to me. 



Craigslist > Utah > Brigham City > Community > Missed Connections

October 12, 2020 Alex (Drove a blue Ford Taurus)

God. How many times will I write about you? You married the nice girl you texted me about, the one who knows everything about you, and who loves you anyway. You posted a picture with your son on Facebook. He’s old enough to stand, if he can hold onto your fingers. He has your blue eyes, and your blonde hair. I’m glad he looks like you. You teach at my old middle school. You’ve made it. A wife. A son. A full-time job, doing what you love. And I keep writing about you. I had a dream last night that you showed up at one of my readings, where, of course, I read about you. I tried to tell you to go to hell, but you knew that everything I’ve ever written has been a love letter for you to find.

 
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Shaun Anderson

is an MFA candidate at Western Washington University studying creative nonfiction. His work has been published in the 45th Parallel Literary Journal, Mud Season Review, and Sigma Tau Delta's Rectangle, among other literary magazines.