Remember when those ads were a thing? Before twitter or really, any social media? Friendster was pretty big amongst my friends. But, Facebook was still just for Harvard kids. I knew people who loved to read those ads for entertainment. Some of them were really sweet. Some were raunchy. Others were sad and desperate. Most of them seemed pretty innocent — but I’m sure that was my naive early twenties talking.

Anyhow, the morning after my first sleepover at my boyfriend’s teeny, tiny apartment on the Lower East Side, I met up with two of my girlfriends to discuss the sex over coffee at Kate’s. Was it good? What positions did you try? How drunk were you? You know, the normal girl-talk, post-coitus convo. So, we’re blabbing loudly. And, laughing and drinking copious amounts of coffee. And this handsome, rotund, bearded (before beards were cool) dude sitting at the table next to us tries to strike up a conversation. We sort of humor him and talk for a few minutes. Turns out we’re both from Northern California and that we both listen to Neurosis. We’re both musicians and thinking about starting bands. It’s casual, innocent, and short-lived.

The next day, I’m back at my boyfriends apartment and we’re trying to figure out where to go for breakfast. He suggests we head over to Kate’s on Avenue B. I say, sure but I’ve just been there. And, I start telling him about breakfast with my girls. The great food, the strong coffee and the the two dudes sitting next to us. “Wait, what?” he asks. For a moment I think he’s pissed. But, he’s definitely not the possessive type. Is he stoked? Maybe he’s seeing me as desirable to other men and that’s exciting?

“We talked for like five seconds. It was nothing,” I say.

“Hang on,” my boyfriend says picking up his laptop. “Holy shit.” He says a few minutes after opening his computer and typing in something. “I knew it!”

“What?” I ask innocently.

“You’re a missed connection. Ha! I knew it. You had to be.”

“No way,” I say in disbelief. “That can’t be. I was having breakfast with Rach and Laney and literally talking about…”I pause to think about how best to phrase it, “you.”

“Hmm.”

“We were talking about you. How much I like you and stuff. He must have overheard a lot of it. Our conversation seemed totally innocent. He’d just moved to the city and was just trying to make friends…”

“Right,” my boyfriend snorts. He’s not jealous. Just amused. He’s enjoying this and I am too. I’m thinking this looks pretty good to a new boyfriend — you’ve got me but other people want me, so don’t you forget it. “You were wearing a faded, black pixies t-shirt and had a sexy septum piercing,” he reads. “You hailed from Northern California, have impeccable musical taste and a laugh that lights up the room. I wanted to ask you for your number but I’m pretty sure you weren’t interested…” he pauses to look up at me, eyebrows raised. “If you are, give me a call,” he continues.

“Damn. You vixen you,” my boyfriend says half mockingly, with lust-filled eyes. “You don’t have conversations like that without a guy wanting more. You don’t let the perfect girl slip away,” he says with a crooked smile as he pulls me in close to him. His warm breath against my cheek, his hand gently sliding up my back. He leans down and I am tingling, almost buckling at the knees as his lips get closer. “I mean, I think you should probably call him,” he quips and gently pushes me back with a huge grin.

“Dick,” I say. “Maybe I will. We’ve certainly got a lot in common. There’s..” But before I can finish the sentence he’s grabbed me and wrapped me in his long, lean arms, and pressed his soft lips into mine. He smells like soap. And pine. Of musty, salty sweat. And, I know we will never think of this bearded, missed-connection-guy again.

And, we will not be making it to the diner for breakfast either.