Found in the Missed Connections section of Craigslist: St. Louis

Dear Men of Saint Louis,

My existence on the same public sidewalk as you does not mean you are entitled to talk to me.

Do you need the time? I can do that. Do you need vague, inarticulate directions? I can definitely help. But, unless you are vaguely in my age range and honestly think that if we one day made babies they would be happy, healthy, and not dragged down to some mean attractiveness, you absolutely do not need my phone number. You do not need to tell me I’m pretty. You do not need to explain to me that you got out of that cop car on the corner because you need to arrest me for “looking so sexy.” You do not need to lie to me about some fictitious wife who is unable to satisfy your foot fetish needs, and you certainly do not need to touch MY feet.

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