Why Can't This Be Love

After getting raped/taken advantage of/made awkward love to on Friday night, I decided to go out to the city's Halloween parade on Saturday with a friend to try to forget about it.

I washed my clock t-shirt from the night before and altered my outfit from "Wasted Time" to "Father Time" by throwing on a white beard and keeping alcohol out of my body.

The parade was winding down at around two in the morning, and I had the ratio of drag queens to Max from "Where the Wild Things Are" near 3:2, respectively. Then, plodding solo down the street, arms outstretched with yellow and red dynamite, face painted blue, walked a man with a forlorn look on his face, like he was going to use that dynamite on himself.

Then, it hit me.

"Awesome! Pierrot le Fou!" I shouted.

Jean-Luc Godard's "Pierrot le Fou" was the film that awakened me to the French New Wave and holds a special place in my heart. The film geek in me had a catharsis.

The guy immediately turned around. I couldn't tell for sure, but I thought I saw his eyes swell with tears. He spoke as if a thousand tons had been lifted from his back:

"You're the first person to recognize me all night."

His arms raised from a cry for help up to a cry of victory.

We hugged, and then parted sadly, but proudly.

If this isn't a good use of Craigslist's missed connections section, I don't know what is...