Her Reputation Precedes Me

Now then, where were we?

About three weeks ago, I started noticing occasional visits to The Panopticon via Ravelry. If you knit, and you're reading this, you probably know about Ravelry. If you don't, here's a quick briefing:

1. These two nice people decided it would cool, and perhaps profitable, to launch a Web space for knitters that would allow them to create profiles (like MySpace), catalog their stuff (like Librarything), and interact with other people (like the Knitty boards, et al.).
   
   
2. The two nice people wanted a couple hundred beta testers to play with the shiny new (if still incomplete) toy so that they could make it run properly before asking the general knitting public to step inside.
   
   
3. Knitters beat a path to their homepage so quickly, and in such numbers, that it tore a gash in the fabric of the universe and temporarily reversed the flow of the Mississippi, the Ganges, the Nile, and the Rio de la Plata.
   

At present, "Where are you on the Ravelry waiting list?" is a question as much on the lips of the knitting community as "Did you finish yet?" was among Harry Potter fans last week.

Those who have been let past the velvet ropes are known to be enjoying themselves heartily on the dance floor. Occasional squeals and giggles heard through the door suggest a level of orgiastic delight akin to the parties thrown in Rome just before it fell. Those of us still waiting on the sidewalk are doing our best to be patient. Fortunately, we brought our knitting.

The proprietors are wisely employing a strict policy of only inviting new users according to their places on the waiting list. As one commenter over on Stephanie's blog said, "If they made you wait, we know there are no exceptions."

As of today, I'm 11,565 [edited. oops. originally published with wrong number] on the list. In front of me are 4,107 people. Behind me are 10, 198 people. Ten thousand one hundred ninety eight. The number keeps rising; even as those ahead of me have been allowed in, the total percentage of admitted applicants has held steady at about 33%.

I will admit I've been damned curious about what's happening in there, particularly since it's started sending folks over here. I'm reminded of an episode in middle school when one of the boys discovered one could hear conversations in the girls' toilets via a transom window facing the playground. He took to hanging about under the window, trying to find out if they were talking about him. (They were. They were saying, "Why is that little dickhead always trying to listen to us while we pee?")

Here's one thing I do know, and it makes me nervous as hell: Dolores is already in there. Naturally. She's already got her own fan club, the Dolores Devotees, complete with their own badge and banner.



Madam is over the moon. I can't get her away from the computer, and every time I come into the room she closes the browser and pretends to be deeply engrossed in a spreadsheet.

Should I be nervous?

Only Connect

I heard it said once that we are most emphatic about correcting those "faults" in others that we perceive in ourselves.

If the 1,000 Knitters project leads me repeatedly to harangue the participants about learning to love themselves, that's why. You're reading the words of a fellow who for ten years never once looked at himself in the mirror. I even learned to shave my face by feel. I can deal with mirrors now, but I still don't like them.

Needless to say, this (what to call it? fault? attitude? neurosis?) peculiarity is an impediment when it comes to the pursuit of anything approaching romance. Fine, I know I'm not the ugliest man in the world. I know that I even have a feature or two that might be considered choice. However, my reaction to any indication of interest from my fellow men is still unmasked suprise, followed immediately by incredulity.

It came as a complete shock, therefore, when a former colleague alerted me to a notice somebody had posted on Craigslist (with which I was only vaguely familiar) in "Missed Connections," a section in which the lovelorn (or lustful) take a shot at finding those they have noticed from afar but been unable to meet.

The writer, in this instance, was looking to speak to a short guy, with a shaved head and goatee, who knit most weekday mornings on the Red Line heading north out of the city. I had to admit that did sound rather familiar.

There has been no subsequent connection, but I found the "Missed Connections" concept so amusing that reading them has become a regular feature of my day. Most of the time they follow a predictible pattern:

1. Man sees other man in gymnasium / restaurant / elevator / steel mill.
2. Man senses that other man shares mutual interest.
   
3. For some reason (i.e., "I was with my wife") man cannot approach other man at that moment.
4. Man suggests that if other man recognizes himself from the description and is interested, he should get in touch.

Occasionally, though–and this is why I can't stop reading them–I am rewarded with a "Missed Connection" so delicious that I feel it should be collected in an anthology and set to music.

Here are a couple recent gems for your delectation. The titles and commentary are mine, of course.

Two Guys in a Nightclub

"Got the courage to talk to you just before I went home. You said your name was like the animal. I would like to see you again." (Giraffe, are you out there?)

Two Guys in Another Nightclub

"I wish I had given you my number. I'm the guy with similar hair." (Two guys with similar hair in a gay bar? What are the odds?)

Two Guys Eating Burritos

"You were having lunch at the Chipotle around 2 or 3pm maybe. You're pretty hot.
What's up?" (Well, that narrows it down, doesn't it?)

Two Guys, One of Them Clueless, On a Cruise Ship

"Patrick? Met you on a Carnival Cruise and haven't heard from you since -- what happened? I hope you see this..." (I bet I can guess what happened to Patrick.)

Two Guys and a Hard Disk

"You fixed my computer. Thank you." (Is this a euphemism? Or just a rather odd way to offer customer feedback?)

And I only read the "M4M" listings. I can't even imagine what must go on in the "M4W" and "W4M" sections. I bet you straight types get up to some freaky stuff. I've heard rumors.