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I’m not what some(any)one would call “classically good looking.” I’m not hot, sexy, or otherwise able to turn heads on the street, especially in this heavily populated super-healthy environment of the San Francisco Bay area, which is full of exceedingly beautiful people..
This isn’t a plea for compliments or anything, it’s just me recognizing the truth, and being ok with it. When UMB and I are out, people notice him all the time. Not so much me.
Tonight, I took one of my infrequent trips on BART (the Bay Area Rapid Transit) aka the area subway. I was heading from work in Berkeley to south San Francisco to help Othurme move some furniture around his house.
Two stops after I sat down on a relatively empty car, a dreamy piece of 26ish year old with deep dark brown eyes, dark wavy hair, 5 ‘o’ clock shadow and perfectly straight white teeth stepped on to the train. He had on a vintage striped sweater, faded jeans, converse and a matching hand knitted scarf.
He glanced toward me, chose a spot facing me about 5 seats away, and met my gaze with a smile. I of course looked away, not really embarrassed that he caught me looking, but not wanting to make it completely awkward by outright staring at him.
I tried to concentrate on my cell phone and my iPod, but noticed that he continued to stare and smile at me. People would filter in and out with each stop moving into the city and each time there was a clear path, he would meet my eyes and smile again.
By Powell Street Station I had mentally moved into his 2 room apartment with his cat and his easel (he had to be an artist, right?) and couldn’t have told you UMB’s name to save my life.
By 16th and Mission, we had done things to make the dust bunnies blush. By 24th and Mission, where he got off the train with a final smile and a wave, we had adopted kids and realized that we hated each other and needed “space.”
It was a fairly amicable breakup.
I was totally riding the high from being so blatantly flirted with that I nearly forgot to get off the train at Colma, where I needed to transfer to a train that would take me the rest of the way to Othurme’s. Thankfully the train operator hurried me off.
The next train arrived about 10 minutes later. When the door opened, a 14 year old skater punk with bright red kinky curly hair stepped off the train and promptly vomited at my feet, splashing my shoes.
Aah, reality check.
The kid stepped back onto the train and joined his friends, right next to me. He giggled and pointed to the spot on the platform where he puked. His three friends all turned to look out the door to point and laugh at the puddle of goo. I couldn’t really hear what they were saying over the iPod, but the conversation went something like this:
Pukey McNasty: Dude, I totally yakked out there!
Ugly Dorkendale: Sweet! Where?
PM: Dude! Right There! *pointing at the puddle*
Cute in Ten Years: Oh Man! It’s purple! What the fuck did you eat?
PM: I don’t know man, but it’s on the ground now. And THAT guy’s shoes. *points at my feet*
UD: Gross!
At which point I stepped out of my shoes, picked them up and wiped them down the length of Pukey McNasty’s legs. I then calmly stepped back into my shoes and out onto the platform at my stop. Just before the doors closed I heard:
Cute in Ten Years: Dude, that guy totally pwned you.
