Mixed Signals

Dear traffic light on 53rd and Maplethorpe,

They say red is the color of love, and, well, I didn’t know you felt that way towards me. I never figured you were focusing on me, I mean, I’m just one guy in a Honda Accord, next in line behind the Volvo station wagon. I didn’t even think you saw me. But then, I get to your corner, and every day, you’re showing the same thing, and I mean every day. And I figured, hey, the only consistent there is me. Whenever I’m there, it’s red. But, traffic light on 53rd and Maplethorpe, here’s the thing. I appreciate it, I really do, and it’s not like I don’t, you know, feel a little bit that way myself. But you’re killing my commute. I know to you, it’s just 30 seconds or a minute or so with me, but for me, I wait there, then I miss the next light, and then the next one, and I know they’re timed, so unless I make the first one, and that’s you, traffic light on 53rd and Maplethorpe, then I’m late for work. I know how this sounds, like I’m putting work before my social life, or like I’m just throwing you to the side, and really, I don’t mean it like that. I notice you, believe me. I think what you do is, well, I think it’s great. I really respect you for it. And you certainly look good doing it. Those bulbs, they’re LED, aren’t they? At least the red one is, since, yeah, that’s the only one I ever get to see. So, I mean, I’d love to take you out sometime, or, well, I guess you’re always out, so maybe something else. But what I’m trying to say is please, if that’s how you really feel about me, let me go through. Please.

But there is one other thing. While you’re showing me the red there, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re giving the cross traffic green. And they do say green is the color of envy. So, I am getting kind of mixed signals from you. I get how it is, I’m the kind of guy, on 53rd, you want to marry, but the Acura speeding by on Maplethorpe is the one you want to date. And I’m going on 30 now, so I realize that I can’t let that kind of thing bother me, but, just, couldn’t you be a little bit less conspicuous about it? It would make me feel better, both about me, and, well, about us. So, though I like you, and I really mean that, I’m just a little wary. Like you say sometimes, yellow, you know, the color of proceed-with-caution. That’s a joke. I guess you get that kind of thing a lot. I shouldn’t joke about what you do anyway, I know you take it pretty seriously. Sorry. I guess, well, I’ll see you later? How about tomorrow morning? Good? Great. It’s a date.