When walking down University Ave or grabbing a snack at the ARC, it’s easy to pass someone who catches your eye. Working up the nerve to ask them out, on the other hand, can be daunting task.
This Valentine’s Day, The Journal wants to help students connect with the ones that got away. If you think you’re the special someone mentioned in one of these anonymous stories and want to contact the writer, email email@example.com.
If you think you’re the special someone mentioned in one of these anonymous stories and want to contact the writer, email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Back in September, I was making pasta salad for a potluck and went to Metro to buy the ingredients. I was able to find everything I needed except for feta cheese. I walked up and down the dairy aisle but had no luck.
I ended up asking an employee where I could find the cheese but he wasn’t sure where to find it either. Luckily, a nice lady overheard my question and said, “Sorry for listening in, but you can find the feta cheese across from the deli.”
We had a nice short exchange and then she left. I never saw her again. It’s tragic.
On Jan. 4, I went to the Royal Ontario Museum to see the Wildlife Photography exhibit alone. None of my friends were available to go with me but I really wanted to see the exhibit before coming back to Queen’s.
I entered the museum, scanned my ticket, and saw him. He was looking at the display cases across the lobby clutching a leather ArtSci jacket. I debated going up to him to say I also go to Queen’s, but decided it was creepy and moved on.
I was 10 minutes into the Asia gallery when I saw him again, alone as well. We both worked our way through the gallery in close proximity before my scheduled entry into the Wildlife exhibit.
About an hour later, I went to see the Ancient Greece exhibit. There he was again. We continued walking through the exhibit until I had to leave to catch my bus.
Whoever you are: You are so cute and I wish I’d said hi!
My missed connection is with a fellow Mamma Mia! fan at a house party.
We got into a long discussion about the sequel and its merits, which just so happens to be one of my favourite drunk conversation topics. I wholeheartedly believe that the “Dancing Queen” scene with boats is a cinematic masterpiece.
We sat in the upstairs hall of the house party for what must have been a half hour. We withstood drunk people puking in the nearby bathroom and a group of guys turning off lights downstairs to “save the planet.”
We chatted until my housemate, who thought I was dead in a ditch somewhere, discovered me sitting with him. I wonder if we have anything in common besides our undying love for Meryl Streep. Perhaps we’ll meet again and find out.
My buddy and I went out to support our friend at the Focus Film Festival. And by support our friend, I mean we got a little wild. Eventually, we got kicked out.
Before the night’s calamitous conclusion, we met one woman who stood up for us.
Someone was filming my friend, the woman, and me. She said: “I didn’t sign a consent form.”
Not only was it a nice burn, but her eyes were among the most beautiful I’d ever seen. Her love of fun was also a rare thing among adults who’ve lost their zest for life. That night, I didn’t have the chance to talk to her properly but her, my friend, and I got along really well.
I was wearing an old, tacky hat and shades the whole night so she doesn’t even know what I look like. It’d mean the world to me if I could get just one chance to meet her again.
There was the most beautiful guy ever in my music lecture last semester. I would shamelessly stare at him instead of actually paying attention in class—I still snagged a great mark in the course though.
One day, he began looking back at me and we would smile at each other. It became an everyday occurrence. I planned to sit with him so many times, but never did.
On days where I sat in a different spot, I would see him look over to where I was, trying to find me.
When the last day of lectures came, I was finally ready to sit beside him. But as I walked in, I discovered he wasn’t there. I never saw him again.
The course was an elective so I don’t know his name, year, or program. To top it off, his physical description matches a lot of guys at Queen’s: white guy with brown hair who tends to wear sweaters. In general, it’s a very sad story.
During first semester in 2017, I talked to one girl in Linear Algebra and asked for a pen. She wore a red coat, sported a Fjallraven backpack, and had round ’80s-inspired glasses.
The class was in Dunning Hall. Everyone I knew sat in the middle seats, but she always sat on the right side of the auditorium. Since I wanted to be near my friends, I never struck up the nerve to walk over and talk to her.
Despite this, I crushed on her all first year. If I had the chance to meet her again, I’d definitely ask her out on a date.
All final editorial decisions are made by the Editor(s)-in-Chief and/or the Managing Editor. Authors should not be contacted, targeted, or harassed under any circumstances. If you have any grievances with this article, please direct your comments to email@example.com.