Dear big strong mystery man-

I wish you hadn't driven away after we met last night. I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better...

First, when you almost ran over my feet in the intersection as you turned right, oblivious to my presence, due, I suppose, to the phone you held in your left hand, blocking your view, I thought, "This guy is important. He is obviously a major player in the game of Life, I wonder if I could be a little pink peg in his passenger seat?" I can only imagine how fulfilling it must be to have so much going on that the existence of another human life is nothing but an inconsequential nuisance in the way of your car. Needless to say, I was impressed. That is why I patted your car affectionately on the behind- to cheer you on, encourage you in your efforts, to spank that long silver ass.

When you pulled over, my heart raced. I thought, "Oh, my god, he noticed me! Me! He must be running over here to ask me to join him at the Blue Water Grill for a giant lobster and a couple of martinis! It'll be so romantic- I'll struggle to unshell my lobster, my tiny weak arms exhausting with the effort, and he'll reach his giant hand over and crush it in one swift motion, ripping the shell in two and casting it over the railing, where it will hit some other person who is as of yet inconsequential and nonexistent but that's not me any more! He noticed me! I wonder, will I have a martini or would I rather have a glass of...."

But you chose another, far more powerful and SEX-AY! way of impressing me- you grabbed my husband and threw him into a tower of scaffolding. Hot! I thought I'd play along, pretend to be the panic-stricken, shocked and terrified little wife, and I screamed, "Get the fuck off him, you stupid piece of shit!" You turned to me, loomed over me, and puffed out your chest as if to say, "I could kill you, you little bitch." Now, somehow, in the midst of my erotic rush, I looked over and saw my husband, easily half a foot shorter than you and about 80 pounds lighter, in a bit of a conundrum. See, he desperately wanted to defend not only himself but me (he didn't get that this was all a little game between you and me... shh), and although we live our lives as devoted pacifists, and had just emerged from a restaurant (which is special for us, as we both work like dogs to pay the rent and rarely have a mutual night off, let alone a little extra money in our pockets to eat out with), ambling toward the ABC home design center to window shop for pillows for our brand new bed (we're newlyweds! Remind me to send you our address so you can forward your gift- you still have one year according to Miss Manners, whom I can tell you read faithfully, so you probably already knew that), and were intent on preserving our rare state of bliss, I could see that he still wanted to take you on, to punch you in the face, to knock the cigarette out of your mouth and send you through the window of the dishware shop. But I could also see, for the first time, fear in the eyes of my husband. It's not often that someone is bigger than him, let alone that someone of that size throws him into a scaffold and challenges him to a fight. Being FIVE FEET ONE INCH tall myself, I am used to being smaller than most people- this was not new to me. What was new (and exciting! Purrowr!) was being actually physically threatened by someone almost a foot and a half taller than me and more than twice my body weight. Most men would be too proud to pick on someone so clearly at a physical disadvantage, LET ALONE A FEMALE- in fact, most men of your size that I've known seemed to be kinder and gentler because of it, especially to a tiny dancer like myself, because the idea that their size could in any way be interpreted as a threat or a menace was simply unbearable to them being that they LIVE IN CIVILIZATION AND ARE MEMBERS OF THE HUMAN RACE- but not you. Needless to say, I admire your courage. Stand tall, renegade man.

As my husband reeled, and I contemplated punching you in the nuts (I always have been a little clumsy with the flirting thing- but I figured you'd pick up on my erotic teasing), you pushed him again, this time in the chest. Now, I want you to know that you had me at "Fuck you motherfucker", and the continuing physical violence was just icing on your man-cake. My husband couldn't breathe. I think he could feel me slipping away, irretrievably drawn to you, swept off my feet. At that point, when I told you to go fuck yourself in your own ass, I have no doubt that you understood that I was yours for the taking, for you responded "Shut up you little cunt." I almost melted into the sidewalk, because nothing, NOTHING, turns me on like that magic word. Boy, that's the word, isn't it? THE WORD. As I stood with my jaw open (I was being suggestive! Didn't you get it??? Hello??) you walked away, back into your little silver dick, and drove off into the light Manhattan fog.

I can't get you out of my mind. There's so much that remains unsaid- and I wish I had more than your license plate (PEP316 OR 613, EITHER NY OR NJ) and the memory of your frame (WHITE MALE, ABOUT 6'3", 250 POUNDS) the location (16TH AND WEST BROADWAY) the date and time (SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 14TH, 7:15 PM) and two witnesses...

I can only hope that you read this, or that someone you know reads it and forwards it to you, so that you will know how I feel, and what I wish I had said to you-

YEAH, WADDLE BACK TO YOUR DICK AND HAVE ANOTHER CHEESEBURGER, YOU FAT FUCK. YOU COULDN'T PAY FOR A PIECE OF THIS CUNT, YOU DERANGED FUCKING BULLY. PUT YOUR FUCKING PHONE DOWN AND PAY ATTENTION TO HUMAN LIFE. HURRY UP AND HAVE YOUR HEART ATTACK AND DIE AND SPARE THE REST OF THE WORLD YOUR SOCIAL POLLUTION.

Sigh. Maybe somehow, someday, the universe will put us back in touch. Maybe I'll wait on you, and break a cup of coffee across your face. Maybe my husband will arrive at your office to network your computers, and you'll find your car months later at the bottom of the Hudson. But, like I said, we're pacifists, so probably not. Of course, you never know. This is the age of the internet, you know, and for $49.99 you can find someone's name and address with a license plate number. The question is, are you worth it????