Being newly single in New York is sometimes frustrating, sometimes disheartening, and sometimes, downright depressing. Fortunately, I have the power to attract subway boyfriends like no one else, and this buoys my spirits on an almost daily basis.
Consider the following example of subway boyfriendery:
The other evening, I was coming home from work on the local R train (side note: the best train for picking up "hotties"). For those of you not familiar with the R, the seats are configured in an "L" shape, with 3 seats perpendicular to 2 seats. When available, I like the inside corner seat on the 2 side, because 1. it tends to be a little cozier up in there, and 2. sometimes, I like to not worry about crossing my legs when I'm wearing a skirt (seriously. It gets tiring sometimes).
So that's where I was sitting on this particular ride. It's also important to note that the seat on the 3 side in front of me had an empty banana peel on it, and the seat furthest away from me was occupied by a 20-something woman, who was - for the moment - heavily into playing a game on her phone. Thus, the stage is set...for something exciting!
Enter: my subway boyfriend. For the sake of this story, I'm going to name my new boyf Bruce, because he looks like a Bruce, and I unfortunately never caught his name. He's a grizzly old man, probably in his sixties. Brucie has that greasy, Shakespearean style haircut that just drives the ladies wild. He doesn't look homeless, but he sure is dirty, and obvs I'm into that, so clearly, I am overjoyed when he takes the seat right next to me, blocking me in so I don't have a chance in hell of tactfully escaping and sitting somewhere else during the remainder of my 20-minute ride.
As an icebreaker, Bruce commences to rant and rave about the insensitive fool who has left the banana peel on the seat. The man knows how to pull right on my heartstrings; he's so environmentally conscious! To demonstrate his rage, he pulls a withered subway map out of his pocket and throws it dramatically to the ground. Take that, litterbugs!
The girl in front of me gives me a Look that conveys the pressing question, "What the fuck?" I can't help but laugh. This, of course, draws Bruce's attention to me even further. He decides to seduce me by showing off a little of his "hot bod" - he rolls up his sleeve and points out his manly bicep, which is sporting an oh-so-fashionable tattoo of a ship. He mumbles something about being in the Navy as he flexes for me. Be jealous, ladies: I've landed a seaman! And it's not even Fleet Week!
Surprisingly, Bruce hasn't yet won me over completely. I need to know that my man has a sense of humor. He launches into a *hilarious* anecdote about the time when he put his friend Jose in a headlock at the top of a cliff. You'll never believe this, readers, but they ran/tumbled down the hill together like that, and Jose almost died! Hahaha. Ha.
We're at DeKalb at this point, and I have about 10 minutes to go. I'm getting what appear to be sympathetic glances from other subway passengers. I don't understand why. This is the BEST RIDE OF MY LIFE.
Bruce, it turns out, is also something of an inventor/entrepreneur. He gives me a knowing look, digs around in his pockets, and pulls out a vial of questionable yellow liquid. "This is my special concoction," he whispers to me confidentially. Concoction for what?! I want to shout my curiosity to the rooftops with elation, but instead, I keep quiet. I don't want to scare Bruce away with my enthusiasm. I can only pray that he has invented some sort of lemon-flavored date-rape drug. Alas, he starts to rub it all over his hands; it's some sort of moisturizer. I guess seamen like Brucie-boy get dried out pretty easily.
At this point, Bruce deems that our relationship has progressed far enough for him to start asking the important questions. He wants to really "get to know me." He flips his luscious, Fabio-esque locks my way, and rattles off a list:
"Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend?"
"What's your stop? Where are you getting off?"
"You don't talk much, do you?"
Believe me, dear readers, I want to answer these questions and more, but I am simply paralyzed by my fear of rejection. I stay silent. I believe I will regret this decision for the rest of my life.
Understandably, Bruce becomes frustrated with my silence. He picks up the banana peel and violently slaps it against the seat. Flecks of banana remnants splatter. He throws the peel to the floor, where it cuddles up with the grimy subway map. Brucie turns to me and flashes a toothless smile. We've just survived our first fight.
My stop finally arrives. As I go to exit the train, Bruce cries out, "Oh, you're leaving? When will I see you again?! I will see you again! I WILL!"
I can only hope.
As I walk up the stairs and into the frigid night air, a fellow passenger turns to me and states, "I think he really liked you."
Yes, fellow passenger. Yes, he did.
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1 comment:
This reminds me of my subway boyfriend Gerome. He sat beside me on the seven and proudly dumped out his hat full of change on the seat. He started counting it and determined we had enough for him to take me to dinner.
I saw some quarters in there. We had enough to split a dessert.
Zee, do you want to go on a double? Meetcha at times square where our trains junction?
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