All I have to say is: the subway is not a single’s bar. That’s it. I don’t think it should be that confusing. It’s morning. You’re on a train. We are all slogging our way to work, and most of us just want some peace and quiet. Normally, people oblige. Today was not one of those days, I sitting in front of a nice looking woman who apparently, the man standing behind her mistook for someone looking for a date.
The conversation broke into my consciousness when the woman refused to give the man his name. His name is, “Mark, for what it’s worth. Are you sure you can’t tell me your name?” So, about four stops later he runs out of his rehearsed stories, planned to charm any woman about meeting celebrities on the train and how women in New York are either beautiful or nice, but never both (how was that supposed to make her feel??) and his aspirations of directing, acting and screen writing. He starts to move on to finding out more about her.
“So, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a bookkeeper.”
“Fascinating,” (At this point, I am involuntarily rolling my eyes) “Maybe one day you can be my bookkeeper when I become rich and famous. You know, I’ll need someone to keep track of all that money for me.” (I’ve nearly rolled my eyes out of my head by this point.)
So, I just need to get this out there: Guys, we KNOW when you’re lying, we KNOW when what you’ve said is well rehearsed. And FINALLY it’s not nice to try to pick people up in front of a train packed with people trying to mind your own business.
© Michelle Scott 2005
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