Missed Connections

We chatted at the Dan Deacon show!!! I was the tall guy with beard and the trucker capYou said you don’t like delivering babies. I probably wouldn’t enjoy it either. So we have that in common!!I’ve been kicking myself for not getting your number!! Maybe it’s not too late??

I read the post three times before it sinks in.

“This is totally you, right?” My friend Megan asks with a swoony smile as she dances in front of me. 

“Maybe?” I shrug, handing her phone back.

“Come on,” she rolls her eyes as we continue walking down the darkened hallway. It’s an oddly quiet night in labor and delivery. We have three moms on track for delivery within the next hour or two and one whose labor has slowed so we had the nurses start Pitocin.

“You were at that concert. I know this is you.”

“How? plenty of OB’s don’t like delivering babies.” 

“Right, we’re in it for all the money and great hours.” Meagan laughs. “You used to love this job before Dan left you.”

“Can we not?” I didn’t want to think about why Dan left. 

“Steph, you have to at least tell me if he was cute?” 

“Ugh. Fine. He wasn’t bad.” 

“Yes. I knew it was you.” Megan shimmies. How can she shimmy at 2:15 am? “So, are you going to write back?” she asks, cocking her eyebrow at me as she taps her phone against her chin.

“How did you even find it?”

“I love missed connections.” She shrugs. It’s like little mini romance novels or meet could-have-been’s”

“What would I even say?”

“Maybe, Hi?”

“How can you be so interested in my love life?”

“Because I’ve always wanted someone to “missed connections” me. It’s so romantic. He’s still thinking about you a week later. He’s ‘“Kicking himself for not getting your number!’” 

“He could be a complete mess.”

“So scope him out. I’ll get my brother to do a background check.” Meagan pouts like a three-year-old asking for a puppy for Christmas and I can’t hold back a snort.

“Fine.” I hold out my hand in resignation. “Give me your phone.”

“Yay!” Meagan bounces in her silent shoes as she hands me her phone still open to the craigslist ad.

“It's not like this will change my life.”  But I can’t ignore the flutter in my chest as I click the response button.

Me in jeans and a scrubs top. Coffee on my sweater couldn’t keep me from the show. You admitting your friend dragged you out. Even though you had an early court case.

Please don't be the defendant.