"Is that any good?" I say to the
confused target. I don't turn my head or
point to a specific show. "I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" she responds.
"Yes indeed, now, have you seen this show? I might go," I say without really looking
at her yet. We need to
discussion for our faces to be turned. She is neither warming to my approach nor cold
to it. Just mildly tempted and slightly concerned that I may be a bit mental.
"Do you usually talk rubbish to strangers?"
Yes, you're thinking what I'm thinking aren't
you? I'm in there, she's a bit of a "banter-babe" who likes to poke fun and
playfully argue. Oh my, I can see us tickling each other into submission with
only our sheets to cover us in no time. I smile to myself, and turn to what I expect will
be a cheeky grin with a raised eyebrow. This was not the case, as I turn
to see her place her second earphone from her loud iPod into her
ear. Cheeky doesn't work in London, a place where
boring modern-chick lit novels are set and couples hold hands whilst taking
arms length pictures of themselves near the Thames river.Awkwardness, shyness and borderline Aspergers is what I need here. No bullish
penis-swinging antics, just an awkward moment turned into light chatting is
the key. I have a plan. A variety of unintentional
mishaps is pretty much standard procedure in cramped conditions, but I've
never seen them as a chance to pick up. They are the only things that ever spark
interaction in situations such as this, and even if that is only a nervous
shudder of "Oh I'm sorry," it's still something. I stand in the middle
of a crammed train, holding onto an upright bar and bracing for the journey,
but it seems that a rather pretty brunette has her hand about two inches below mine on
the bar. I look away, and "unintentionally" put my hand on hers.She quickly moves it lower from mine. Her head is cocked
towards me. I obviously remove my hand with haste, and apologize. "Oh don't worry, it's
fine," she replies as she goes to return her head to face the window. "It was a bit
awkward though," I spurt, before she has the chance to settle. She turns back toward me
and giggles at my observation. I stop my tongue from throwing out such arsery as "But it
was the most action I've had in ages," and just plow away with a lighthearted
conversation about how busy it gets on this train at this time. It doesn't matter what
the topic is, people enjoy talking to people when they feel comfortable. Especially
people like Sarah, a 24-year-old buyer for a clothing outlet based in the city. We exchanged numbers and agreed to drop each other a line. I
would have gone with the Facebook exchange, but we're underground so I didn't
want to risk not finding her when I had enough phone signal to
search. You can meet anyone, at any point, wherever
you are, as long as you break the ice gently and find something to talk
about. We all like to talk, and share, and discuss things, so every once in a
while it's important to be reminded that this is possible without the aid of a
computer screen. Even if that reminder comes in the form of a slightly creepy
premeditated plan of romance. Now, do I
tell Sarah I have a girlfriend and that this was an experiment, or shall I just not
text her? Hmmm. I'll wait for her to call.
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