"I Saw You" On The Central Ave. Median

Who Saw? Who Was Seen? Was It You?

\ Apr 17, 2014

3 min read

“Charity creates a multitude of sins.” –Oscar Wilde | Reply or see more “I Saw You” ads at alibi.com/personals.

I was behind you in the checkout at Smiths on 4th on 4/14, 6pm

I was behind you in the checkout lane at Smith’s on 4th Street. You looked up as I began to put my groceries onto the belt, you stopped for a minute, we looked at one another and smiled. Our eyes met several more times. I wished that you would talk to me. You finished checking out. When I came out of the store I saw you again putting your groceries into your white truck. We smiled again. I put my groceries into my silver Honda. We met at the basket return. I wished you had asked for my number.

MY BAD: I’LL BE MORE ATTENTIVE NEXT TIME

YES, It is MY BAD in that the fender of my classic Nash Metropolitan grazed you, however so slightly, while YOU appeared out of nowhere from the median of Central Avenue, sporting a cardboard placard emblazoned with "NO MORE EATING OF GUINEA PIGS BY SOUTH AMERICANS." Not hip to the current causes of rectifying injustices, and stalled at the next red light, I offered you a donation of five bucks toward your endeavors. YOU graciously declined the offer and said, "Shove it up your ass, dickweed.”

Very Sweet

You work at the Coop here on campus. You used to have longer hair than you do now (which btw works either way). Usually when I see you, I get super nervous. I wish I knew what to say. I don’t think I’d ever have a chance but I’d just like to let you know, you are very handsome and seeing you when I do, is very nice.

Sincerely,

Not a creeper.

"Your Smell Made Me Well"

Whenever I see you, my mind flashes on a flood of memories: Mooshie saying I’d make a great Daddy; the sweetness of your mouth after our marathon kissing sessions; the silky-softness of your skin; waking to your golden hair in the morning sun; the oniony scent of your underarms; the slightly musky scent from under your perfect breasts; the yeasty scent from between your alabaster thighs; the hammy scent from between your marvelous buttocks. Without you I survive, I don’t live. Come back.