I have a handful of meaningful posts simmering right now and will share them as soon as they are sufficiently cooked. Right now I’m busy working on my fireside/conference presentations, and memorizing all the music, and am learning some wonderful things that I’m looking forward to sharing. In the meantime, I think I’ll continue my current trend of frivolous posting and give you an update on … the maintenance man. Today is your lucky day! There is news to tell.
SO. I haven’t seen him since the day after Dream 1. And what I didn’t tell you, when I told you that I saw him getting off my train that day, was that I quick grabbed my phone so I could take a picture to send to Frit. (If you tell me I’m ridiculous or pathetic, I’ll tell you to go stick your head in the sand). Best friends need visuals. Period. Unfortunately there was no way to take a front-view photo without him knowing so the PIX Frit got looked something like this:
Obviously not a very helpful angle, but all I could capture without him knowing. Until today …
At the end of the work day, I caught the trolley to the SL Central Station where I transferred to a train headed out of the city. Whilst on the trolley I’d called my Grandma Sally to say hi and I wasn’t paying much attention to anything but our conversation until I got to my favorite seat in the first train-car, turned around, and saw him. Him! The maintenance man! I quickly, but with feigned nonchalance, turned around and sank into my seat as the flush spread from my cheeks down my neck (and maybe, just maybe, to my hiney). Every encounter is a bit uncomfortable, you must realize, on account of the fact that I’ve kissed him and all. Even more uncomfortable is the fact that he doesn’t even know we’ve kissed. But anyhow, I finished my conversation with Gram and contemplated my options.
Should I get up, move over to his aisle, and strike up a conversation?
No, you fool. You can’t even see him without going all 6th grade on yourself. Besides that, you’re a chicken.
Yeah, true. OK, what about a friendly smile?
Yeah, you could pull that off. Friendly smile is very non-threatening and even a 6th grader chicken can do it.
OK, on the count of 3, I’m going for it. Three … two …
I stood up to “resituate” my bag and coat into the compartment above my seat and as I did so, I caught his gaze (so I thought), smiled, and waved. Aaaaaaaand … he? He turned his gaze and looked out the window. No smile. No nod. No wave. Nothing. Nothing? Nothing!
Wh-what?! If I could’ve sunk any lower into my seat after that I would have been the grit in the creases of the worn leather upholstery. Later, when I told Frit about it, she laughed so hard she almost peed her pants and then (once she could breathe) came up with reasons as to why he didn’t acknowledge my friendly gesture including:
a) He thought I was waving at someone behind him.
b) Though he appeared to have been looking at me, he may have been looking past me and didn’t even see the smile and wave because he was staring into space.
c) Men are sometimes oblivious and he, being a man, might not even realize that I should look familiar to him. So while I have seen him (and kissed him) enough to feel like I know him, he might not recognize that in fact, I am not just a strange woman waving on the train, but am actually someone he’s come in contact with multiple time.
(She’s such a good friend.)
I’m personally banking on option A, but regardless, at the time, I felt like a royal idiot. I sat through the rest of the ride trying to appear as cucumber-like as possible grasping at any shred of dignity I had left. But if I’d had any at all to begin with, I tossed it out the window with my next move.
As we approached my stop, I turned to gather my things, and stole a glance in his direction. He was asleep! Asleep! Heaven had smiled upon me. This was my chance! My chance to get Frit the visual she needed! I ducked back down beneath the top of my seat, fumbled for my phone, quickly turned on the camera, and then slowly, nonchalantly, poked my head up, eyes darting to see if anyone was watching. I carefully rested my arm on the back of the seat, casually “fiddling” my phone. I twirled it on its corner, tapped it on the seat, flipped it around, and when the coast was clear: snap!
‘Twas a bit crooked and blurry so I tried again. Second time’s a charm.
Now I realize after telling you this story, you might think I’m a little crazy. But I like to call it “quirky.” And I think a little “quirk” is charming. So don’t think about leaving that in the comment box. I also realize that in showing you these pictures, I might totally embarrass myself, because YOU might know him. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take for a good blog story. I also realize that in showing these pictures to people who may or may not know him, I might discover that he’s married, which is just plain awkward. But if he IS married, he’s one of those idiot married men who doesn’t wear a ring which I think is awful, and downright rude to us single ladies. And if that’s the case, my dream about kissing him isn’t even my fault. It’s his and he should be ashamed of himself.
OK, enough stalling.
Here’s take 1:
And take 2:
Sidenote: I’ve never seen him wear spectacles before. And today, the spectacles plus the scruff just about did me in. He looked soooo philosophical. And those who know me best know my heart beats true for philosophers. [Sigh] (I wonder if he plays the guitar. If so, he had me at “Now what seems to be the problem with the thermostat on your floor?”)
In conclusion I’d like to say that my train escapade today was fun. I need a little more adventure like this in my life. I’d also like to say that I have no feelings toward the maintenance man whatsoever, other than flustered embarrassment that is slowly turning into curiosity as to why he’s popping up in my life all the time these days. Frit thinks it has to do with The Secret … The Secret … The Secret. Whatever it has to do with, at least there’s a man to talk about.