Gumtree playing Cupid (whom I can imagine, throws BBMs rather than arrows)

When I spent the night drinking Brazilian cocktails and attempting to samba to an unnaturally quick beat, in Guanabara one Friday, the last thing I ever expected to see was a message aimed at me on Gumtree’s infamous ‘Missed Connections’.

Writing for Gumtree, I am always perusing for a story or angle, and undeniably I had found one. The post title read: ‘Guanabara - Friday - Natalie (ok, not quite my name but a close second’. Very intrigued and a wee bit apprehensive, I clicked on the post title and up popped a short message from the person (hereinafter referred to as Mr. X). The message read: ‘you’re a writer from South London, met you outside Guanabara on Friday night. I have something of yours’. Truth be told, I was slightly disappointed the message wasn’t “juicer”!

I debated for a whole three-and-a-half seconds whether to reply, concluding I’d be a fool not to. I messaged back a quick: ‘You have what of mine’. One day elapsed. The next day, I loaded up my hotmail and waited for my emails to emerge. There it was! Mr. X had replied, and golly-gosh it was an elaborate one.

To cut an extensive email short, Mr. X explained his shock at his endeavour actually working, especially considering he had used the wrong name. He apologised for the unusual method of contact and expressed how extremely contrite he was, for the rowdy bunch of morons (I mean, friends) who kept badgering me for my telephone number and my bloody facebook. Mr. X explained he had our little encounter on his mind for the rest of the weekend, he had found me “intriguing” and that I came across as the sort of woman who appreciated an approach a little off the beaten track (well, most enjoy a little BDSM, don’t they?).

He gave me his name on facebook and told me to add him. The main message said he would not ask for my number, but for me to allow him to write me something. If I liked it, then ‘maybe we could chat’. I felt a bit like Queen Victoria by this point. I agreed. Two days elapsed. Suffice to say, I found an email from Mr. X. The piece he had decided upon writing was less of an attempt at a handsome piece of cleverly-written prose and more just a questionnaire. Ten pseudo-insightful questions he could Freud all over. I reluctantly filled them in. Over the next week a few more emails, four free tickets to a BBC comedy show in Putney (he gave me the tickets, we didn't go together) and even more emailing.

I found the whole experience quite flattering with undertones of randomness. I’ve always been quite intrigued by ‘Missed Connections’ and continuously wondered if anybody had sought and found a specific person using the service. I do recommend more people use it, it is strangely remarkable and it’s free. Plus, it’s quite an interesting story to tell the grandchildren. Or not.

If adventures begin and perpetual emails cease, with Mr. X, you’ll all be notified.

Natasha. x