4288 results found in Missed Connections, United States

You played acoustic guitar softly in the corner, and I accidentally made eye contact during your rendition of "Dreams." I smiled, dropped a dollar in your case, and thought about saying hi, but my stop came too fast. If you remember the shy girl in the denim jacket, let's finish the song together.

You played acoustic guitar softly in the corner, and I accidentally made eye contact during your rendition of "Dreams." I smiled, dropped a dollar in your case, and thought about saying hi, but my stop came too fast. If you remember the shy girl in the denim jacket, let's finish the song together.

You shared your bright red umbrella with me as we dashed for shelter, talking about our favorite novels in the pouring rain. I never got your name before the sun came out and you disappeared into the crowd. Still dry, still thinking of you.

We both reached for the last almond croissant and laughed about it being “fate.” You insisted I take it, I offered to split, but destiny intervened with a spilled latte. Meet me again for a croissant rematch?

You played "Here Comes the Sun" on your ukulele, making the whole crowded train smile—including me, the tired commuter in the blue scarf. You hopped off at 33rd Street before I could thank you. If you remember the girl who mouthed the lyrics, let’s sing together sometime.

You played "Here Comes the Sun" on your ukulele, making the whole crowded train smile—including me, the tired commuter in the blue scarf. You hopped off at 33rd Street before I could thank you. If you remember the girl who mouthed the lyrics, let’s sing together sometime.

You shared your bright red umbrella with me as we dashed for shelter, talking about our favorite novels in the pouring rain. I never got your name before the sun came out and you disappeared into the crowd. Still dry, still thinking of you.

We both reached for the last almond croissant and laughed about it being “fate.” You insisted I take it, I offered to split, but destiny intervened with a spilled latte. Meet me again for a croissant rematch?

You played "Here Comes the Sun" on your ukulele, making the whole crowded train smile—including me, the tired commuter in the blue scarf. You hopped off at 33rd Street before I could thank you. If you remember the girl who mouthed the lyrics, let’s sing together sometime.

You played "Here Comes the Sun" on your ukulele, making the whole crowded train smile—including me, the tired commuter in the blue scarf. You hopped off at 33rd Street before I could thank you. If you remember the girl who mouthed the lyrics, let’s sing together sometime.

Tuesday morning, you shared your umbrella with me as rain poured and the F train was delayed at Delancey. I never got your name, but your smile made my day brighter than the weather ever could.

You zoomed past me near Sheep Meadow, almost knocking over my picnic. We exchanged smiles and a high five—if you want to race again or just sit and chat, let’s connect!