It’s a beautiful day in my neighbourhood

Maybe I’m a neighbourhood snob, or perhaps it’s just that familiar street names and places catch my eye more than suburban gas stations and stuff. At any rate, I’ve noticed that I am often drawn to Missed Connections that take place near where I live.

On a good day, I can name all the cross streets between Spadina and Dovercourt, and Bloor to College. Having spent the better part of three or four years living, working, and dating in and around this general area, it’s definitely become my corner of the city. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that I’m likewise attuned, through Missed Connections, to the interactions others also have in this neck of the woods.

First up, one of my favourite nearby restaurants, Utopia. This post might be one of those rare circumstances in which a MC is relatively justifiable. Afterall, who wants to try to pick up with their parents as wingmen? Creepy. Plus, he might have been suffering from what my friends and I have dubbed the “Utopia coma” from their stomach-burstingly delicious giant plates of food, so I have some pity for the poor guy.

From yet another local restaurant dealing in large portion sizes, this one tells a tale of woe in which the gent may have come on a bit too strongly. Nothing spells out someone with a flair for the dramatic like the sentence “My jaw dropped and my heart sunk into my chest.”

A colleague recently suggested a game in which the object is to walk more than one minute along Queen Street West on a Saturday *without* seeing someone wearing a Canada Goose winter coat. Seriously, m4m 28, your crush could be just about any man in the city. Let’s aim for a little more specificity next time, shall we?

Heading a mere two blocks west, our prolific writer returns (actually, he’s returned to Missed Connections on a regular basis, but one man shouldn’t get all the attention here). I’m pretty sure from the locations of his many posts that he must live in the neighbourhood as well (… and I think/know that there’s more to the story, too — yes, I’m a tease).

A bit further west, we have an articulate, caffeinated fellow. Like the guy from Sneak’s above, there’s definitely something theatrical about his style. Compared to the majority of Missed Connections descriptions, this writer is practically one step shy of providing stage directions in italics to recreate “the scene.”

Last but not least… okay, so this one isn’t actually in my neighbourhood. I have a confession to make: I always get the pub “Brass Taps” confused with the “Brass Rail,” the strip club. I’ve been to the former (in at least two locations, one of which is at College & Dovercourt), but never the latter (I swear). But if I had a dollar for every time I’ve mixed the two up, well, I could probably buy a pizza at the Brass Taps. (Not sure how much lap dances go for these days, but I hope it’s more than $10).

Ladies and gents, it’s been a pleasure taking you on a Missed Connections tour of my neighbourhood.

Do tip your guide!

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