Shortly after I wrote my latest craigslist missed connection analysis a friend directed me (via universal hub) to another blogger presumably of the female of the species' critique of a missed connection, this time a straight one. It made me want to hug a heterosexual. You guys really do have it rough.

This was another one from Davis Square, like the one I looked at last weekend. In fact, Davis Square seems a major missed connections destination—The Somerville Tourism Council should capitalize on that—something like: "Davis Square: Miss Your Connection Here," or "Davis Square: Missed Connection Capital of The World."

Yes, it's that brutal.

But as bad as it is, all I can say after reading The Peasant's critique from a safe distance is: even on a bad hair day it's better to be a single gay male than a straight one in these parts. I mean, if the analysis is at all indicative of the way young women (The Peasant is a sophomore at Tufts, if I'm not mistaken) look at random potentially amorous encounters they certainly don't deserve to have them. But what a shame. I mean, crikey, what ever happened to kismet? Or "the kindness of strangers"?

All this poor sod did was make eyes at a girl on the T, and then at Davis Square he followed up, approached her (she was not alone at the time, so he could not have been all that creepy—I mean, witnesses) and asked her, by all indications politely, if she would join him for a coffee. And when you think about it, how can you ask someone impolitely to join you for a coffee? I mean, it's coffee.

The kid didn't lurk around leering from a distance, waiting to catch his prey when she was alone and vulnerable. He went right up to her and her friends and asked her out, just like in one of those frisky Beach Party flicks from the fifties. I mean, this is all straight out of the Frankie Avalon-Annette Funicello Playbook.

And for this The Peasant rips him a new one?

First, he's a creep for noticing his would-be paramour on the T. But so what? All sorts of wonderful people ride the red line to Davis Square (ahem). On its own, a monthly T pass is certainly no guarantee of creepiness.

And I've got more bad news for you, someone you meet at work, in class, at a party, on the internet, or at your cousin's wedding is as apt to be a "creep" as someone you meet on the T. In fact, statistically, the young woman in this missed connection would be safer going with the young man who placed the ad than with someone she knew. (Odd he didn't use that as his pick-up line, innit?)

Just so you know, depending on who you ask, between 70 and 85% of women who are raped know their attackers. The 2005 U.S. Department of Justice National Crime Victimization Survey puts the figure at 73%.

The Peasant seems to be of the opinion that every stranger is a potential rapist, but there's another way to look at it. How about: every stranger is a potential friend. And every friend is a potential rapist.

Please tell me that Generation Next has not fully succumbed to the steady diet of fear-and-hate propaganda they've been weaned on all their lives. Do young women really view all potential suitors as possible sex offenders, or is this mostly a Davis Square thing?