A few months back I made a new friend. On the London Underground. During the morning commute. I know, you’re not supposed to talk to train people. But I did, because he was hot, I was feeling confident and he had an All Blacks shirt and a Maori tattoo so I knew he must be a Kiwi. In fact the first thing I said was “love your shirt”. Real unoriginal, slightly creepy, but 100% effective. Turns out, he’s not a Kiwi. He’s a full blown Brit complete with British accent but has family back in New Zealand.
The conversation flowed as we sat a seat apart, and on opposite sides – until the lovely man next to me asked if Brit-Kiwi would like to switch with him. When he did, my excitement grew. We talked about travel, work (he’s a project manager in construction), London and of course the weather. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to a complete stranger during my morning commute – I was excited and waiting for him to ask that golden question – “can I have your number?”.
He never bloody asked.
Fast forward to today, guess who’s on my train? I spotted him (because of his tattoo) and tried not to stare. We were a few seats apart and I saw him spot me out of the corner of my eye and look a couple times. I played it cool and didn’t catch his eye – instead just ignored him for two stops. Finally I turned when he did and smiled and said hi. As we were so far apart and he didn’t make a move last time I remained playing it cool and kept my ear phones in.
We both got off at the same stop, he was in front of me and I could see him looking around. He was looking for me. When he spotted me he smiled and asked how I was. I asked about his trip that he’d mentioned last time. He asked what I’d been up to and it was all very easy and friendly like we’d known each other for awhile, not like this was the second time we’d met.
I’d love to say there was an exciting end to this build up, but I’d be lying. When it came time to part ways he said “maybe I’ll catch you again soon!”. Grrrrrrr. Maybe he’s a big chicken? Or maybe he’s waiting for the third, fourth or fifth time we meet?
Or maybe he’s simply not that into me. But I can’t believe a random guy on the tube would look around for me to have an actual conversation on his morning commute. It goes against everything I know about London commuters.