Generally speaking, the metro is a pretty lovely place. Now, the escalators are always broken and sometimes it smells, but if you can appreciate good people watching...morning rush hour is the place to be. Parking around here is such a nightmare that most people tend to rely upon the trains in one way or another a fact that translates into seeing people from all walks of life on my morning commute. Additionally, I get a newspaper every day! A NEWSPAPER!
Last Thursday morning, I dashed out my door about ten minutes late -- which really isn't a big deal, for the most part, my work doesn't particularity care what time we roll in, so long as we get our responsibilities taken care of -- and after nabbing my paper and rolling my sunglasses up my forehead and into my hair, my morning routine began.
So there I am, standing on the platform, perusing the newspaper and I catch the eye of this boy. Now...I really really really don't want to make this website your one-stop-shop for all the men in my life, because, lets just be honest, there are lots of them, and not in the hanky panky sense, either. Friends. Lots of us are just friends. The others...well...there are those too. Whatever. Bottom line, this is not and will not ever be my man diary. Onward.
He and I lock eyes. Cute. Well-dressed. Back to my newspaper. Then our train arrives, and though I am sure there is some rhyme/reason/mathematical equation for the train crowds in relation to time and day of the week...all that jazz is beyond my level of city expertise, all I know is that on this particular morning, it seems like everyone has decided to ride the metro at 8:30 am.
We pack ourselves in and said boy and I end up side by side. He's got headphones on, Dave Matthews. Good call. So there we stand, and two stops later, the crowd loosens up and I mosey my late and sleepy self to a seat. We lock eyes again. There is an open seat next to me. Like a leading man, he swoops in, and we spend the rest of my ride making mindless small talk.
No names and no numbers exchanged, I spend the rest of my day kicking myself for not just TAKING THE CHANCE! I have business cards, and my name looks damn good on them, why didn't I just give him one?!?!
So this was my Thursday epiphany: I'm a new girl. In a new city. With miles of opportunity around. I've got to be bold. I've got to ditch routines and be late and branch out and meet people and try new things and be young and be alive. Because I'm lucky to be here.
That night, I (of course) relayed the entire story to best friend, who (in her infinite wisdom) tells me that if it is supposed to happen we'll meet again, and damn if I wasn't late on Friday morning.
Halfway through my morning paper, I peek up only to lock eyes with him again. WHAT! Okay, so we've always joked about how my life is a little cinematic sometimes, but really, its now pretty clear that I LIVE IN A MOVIE!
There we are, standing on the train together for the second day, pushed to opposite sides by everyone in between us. Fumbling for a pen, I reach into my purse and whip out one of those shiny new cards and jot down my cell phone number and "What I should have done yesterday." Ugh, terrible handwriting. Reaching back down into my purse, I reach for another card. The final draft. I am shaking. Why am I shaking? Is this what boys feel like when they do this? Wow. Shaking! Poor things. I'll be nicer about that from now on. Focus. Handwriting must be good. Neat. Okay. Its done.
I'm holding this thing in my hot little hands and he steps towards me. Our conversation resumes where we left off yesterday, and as the metro pulls into my station, as calmly as I can, I pass my card along with a wink and a smile.
Its been a week, and I've gotten nothing out of him, but to be honest, I don't really care. It was fun. My little Friday morning adventure, because the idea is bold, people.
We're going for bold.
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