It’s hard finding true love. It’s even harder to work up the chutzpa to ask that person out! Thankfully, Lowbrow’s here to bring together those woulda–coulda–shoulda lovers.
At Riepe: Male, brunette. Danny, it’s Nanna. Why don’t you call us any more? Grandpop and I saw you on the face book. That girl in your picture looked like a floozy. Did you meet Bernie’s daughter at Hillel? She’s a nice girl. We’ll send you up some of your favorite oatmeal cookies (no raisins — we know what happened last time!). Love you my darling shana ponim, your Nanna.
At Penn: Female, blonde. Looking for a college girlfriend, preferably in good condition. Will accept used.
At Van Pelt, 3rd Floor: Male, black hair. Most likely of Cuban descent, fifth desk to the right, reading the classical architecture textbook, chewing Trident Layers with your mouth open, the gum rolling back and forth between your porcelain–colored teeth, tapping the heel of your foot to the ground at a 120 BPM tempo, wearing the Guess jeans you got on a discount from Marshalls, smelling like an alluring mixture of vanilla and Subway Italian BLT, six inches on Parmesan Oregeno bread: Hi.
At Sigma Phi: Male, blonde. It’s over, Charlie. I saw you grinding with that skank Amy at our rush party. And then you shared the octobong with her? How could you!? I thought we were something more than just frat brothers. Bros before hoes, man. Bros before hoes.
At place unknown: Male, brunette. Hey. It’s been a couple months since I’ve escaped, but I miss seeing you come down to the basement to give me my daily gruel. My therapist says my feelings are just an offset of post–traumatic stress disorder, but in my heart of hearts, I know it’s post–traumatic love. Feel free to visit me any time — and bring the handcuffs, for old time’s sake. You clearly know where I live.
At the tennis courts: Male, blonde. I’d love to be that racket and fondle your dick.
At DRL A1: Female, redhead. You dropped your pencil in class. It had tiny little bite marks on the eraser. Such tiny, delicate, beautiful bite marks. I’m working on splicing the DNA of your saliva to make a perfect clone, but it’s taking longer than expected. If it doesn’t work out, mind giving me another sample?
At Locust Walk: Male, black hair. remmember mee? i threw up in your mouth last night but you were sooooo nice about it and i keep thinking and thinking about yoou. Your reaaally hottttt you know that? just want to gnaww on you.
At Au Bon Pain: Female, brunette. I see you there, ringing up people’s orders. I’d love to be the broccoli and cheddar 12–oz. soup that you put in a container and ring up and put in a paper bag, which will be you, and then fall to the floor, which will be me, which you’ll pick up and apologize but then I’d hush you and say, “No, baby, don’t you worry, I’ll just get another soup”.
