My family likes to pick on me for being so smart, and yet being so dumb. I can get a masters degree with honors, but I can be an idiot and pour gas in the oil intake of a jet ski. Riding home on the train tonight, an attractive lady sat down in the seat in front of me. Sitting sideways, it's impossible to look ahead and not stare at her. Trying to be polite, I focus on my mp3 player, singing along to a Jack Johnson song. I catch her looking my way a couple of times.
After about the 3rd time, my subconscious starts tapping on my shoulder, saying [hey, she might think you are cute.]
[Oh really,] I think sarcastically, not believing my subconscious for a second. [How can you tell? It could be I'm singing too loud .]
[Well,] my subconscious answers back, [it's really in the way she looked at you, and when she looks... HEY! Quit analyzing every damn thing! Quit doubting yourself and talk to her.]
[But, what do I say?] I look at her again, I notice the freckles on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She's very cute. She also has freckles on her arm. Kind of like mine. [Maybe I can talk about our freckles.]
[You are an idiot.]
I look again. She's wearing a black shirt, blue jeans, carrying two black attache bags and a black fleece jacket. I like her basic dress, nothing frilly or frou frou. [“Hey, I like your lack of a fashion sense.”]
[Jackass.]
Now, I really start struggling. Her black slipper shoes. No. Her cell phone is similar to my last one, which I didn't like much. [“How do you like your, um, nevermind.”]
[sigh]
I think of my friend Bob, who can strike up conversations with anyone, at any time. Lucky married bastard. W.W.B.D.?
[Sorry, dude, I got nuthin']
Fucker. Well, it's been too long now. I'd feel like a stalker trying to talk to her. Shortly thereafter, she puts her jacket on.
[“So, you getting off the train?”] I think it just to piss my subconscious off. If my bastard subconscious isn't going to help, then he deserves it.
