HOW NOT TO MEET THAT HOT DUDE ON THE EL
You want to take meet-dude advice from me because I am most excellentest at meeting new dudes. I possess all the required manners necessary for Making An Impression: I can drool, almost on cue; I can stutter; and I can let fly arbitrary bits of spit that inexplicably land RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of other people's faces, even when they're turned away from me. Also, sometimes when I laugh, I make a sound that's quite simliar to that of a horse having a panic attack after the barn's been set on fire.
I'm on the el this afternoon, after having huffed up the stairs with a box and my bag, which this morning was a black tote, but this afternoon was The Terror Of My Armpit, so I kept having to move it and I thought I was slick because I developed this maneuver wherein I moved my bag and then followed up immediately with a surreptitious arm pit scratch and I'm sure I was so covert no one saw that one. I'm patenting that move, by the way.
And then, as I'm arm pitting and maneuvering my box, who should waltz down the platform but beautiful brown-eyed dude. Maybe about 6 feet, brown hair, facial hair shaved close, brown eyes, sharp nose, easy gait. Jeans, bag. Headphones. Of course. Me too, by the way, so obviously this is the perfect set up for communicating with another human.
But it was the eyes that got me because they were warm and smiley and in fact, he smiled at me, to which I smiled back, and I know there was no spinach in my teeth because I DIDN'T HAVE SPINACH AT ALL TODAY, and then as he walked closer I got a good look at those eyes.
Brown like hot chocolate. And yet, clear. Like I could see a million miles into them and then I knew who this dude was--he's the dude who is funny and smart and gets along with all my friends and often tells me about how he loves my razor-sharp wit and my sparkling intelligence and is wowed by my ability to handle so many projects at once while only having a few, undangerous nervous breakdowns and certainly, he will tell me, not only can you race in 42 bike races next season, I see no reason why you can't win each and every one of them and no, surely you are not overextending yourself by racing while writing and working, that would never happen, are those new shoes? Your choice in clothing is both classy and inspirational and you are quite obviously a multifaceted woman and I would never stereotype you into tiny little holes that thwart your creativity or suffocate your soul.
Well, clearly this was A Dude To Meet, so I executed another one of my patented Dude Attraction Moves--The Stand Really Close And Stare Move. This is a move that should be executed only by those thoroughly trained in the practice of geekery. You simply cannot pull this off if you haven't spent years in high school awkwardly trying to assess where those weird smells are coming from and wondering if they are coming from an orifice on your own body.
Luckily, I was listening to my patented Cool Playlist, which really consists of Purple Rain
and some New Order songs, so I considered The Sexy Approach, which would've been me saying, "Doesn't 'The Beautiful Ones' kinda sorta make you wanna have gooey sex for five days in a row?" But just as I was about to say that to brown-eyed dude, my patented Cool Playlist switched from Prince to New Order, "Ceremony" if you must know, which reminded me that I spent most of high school and a good portion of my 20s angst-ridden and self-righteously angry because NO ONE UNDERSTOOD ME AND NO ONE EVER WOULD, and then I thought about how all my music is from two decades ago and that is kinda a problem, maybe, and then the train came, and brown-eyed dude got on, and I think he made a point to look back at me and then walk to the back of the car, and then switch to the car behind, by using the dangerous and Bond-like Cross Between The Cars Maneuver, which was both a testament to daredevil-ness and a me-inspired creep factor, which I take full credit for.
He was probably gay anyway.