Cook County Prison Complex. You: muscular, facial scars, double homicide in cell 203. Me: tall, ponytail, double homicide in cell 223. Maybe we can bench-press together. Send me a sign.
Marie Model 103-P, you were our robotic maid for two years. I fell in love with your artificial intelligence and stainless-steel hips. My wife recently left me. Maybe we can meet for dinner. Activate your sweet vocal processors and call me.
Chicago Public High School. You: skinny, nerdy, locked inside your locker by one of our stronger classmates. I watched you adapt to your new environment by settling down, starting a family of your own, and declaring yourself “mayor of Lockerville.” When you get out of the locker, call me for a soda pop.
Looking for someone to watch television with. Just lost my cable and I would really like to watch my shows at your place. Really don’t want to talk, just watch. Prefer ER, Matlock, The Real World, BattleBots, and anything with Gallagher. Call me.
Irving and Ravenswood. We were lurking in the shadows. You: a young flesh-eating zombie with minimal muscle atrophy and most of your limbs intact. You offered me a bite of warm brain. I accepted and couldn’t ask your name with a mouthful of frontal lobe. Please call me and we’ll talk over some coffee?
Pinebrook’s Annual Thanksgiving Orgy. You: shy, blond, and wearing a strap-on. Me: submissive, Slayer tattoo, and wearing a green ball gag. Wish I could have said hi.
You were the girl in the red dress at the ER with the massive head wound. Sorry your prom date turned out to be a total dork. Would love to meet again. Hope recovery was quick.
We met at the 2004 Final Fantasy Convention. You were dressed like Yuna from Final Fantasy X. I said, “I like your Yuna costume from FFX-2,” and you immediately corrected me. I was too ashamed to ask for your number. Call me. I will boost your stamina and health.
We were feeding on decaying organic matter. You: the gorgeous maggot in the orange tabby’s left eyeball. Me: the maggot in the other eyeball. I peered across the golden bridge of that feline’s nose and our eyes met. Too stunned to say anything. Should have asked you to catch a bite of decaying organic matter.
The dude with the monocle at the Empty Bottle show last weekend. Seriously, call me.
Last Saturday, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You: blond, high heels, loop earrings, seventh thumbnail from the bottom on Skank-Wank.com. I have a good feeling about our future. I’m thinking three children and a dog?
Um, maybe a few weeks ago on, uh, Michigan Avenue around, say, rush hour. You were, hmm, looking very beautiful and with some, uh, friends — or maybe not? Me: stunning muscleman wearing something expensive — definitely not creepy-looking. Please call me. I’m lonely. Anyone, please call. Really, I mean it. Anyone?
Two weeks from today at Clark and Addison you will be wearing a green hat and eating ice cream. Me: a time traveler wearing a tuxedo. You will say hello, but I will be too nervous to respond. Please do not think that I am being a jerk. No matter how many times I travel back to that moment, I still get it wrong. Next time please ask for my number.