~Missed Connection~

As I teetered onto the train hands full, I was struck by how unattractive the pregnant woman was who sat in the seat across from where I stood. I almost grimaced.
As the train came to a stop a few minutes later I walked off to wait for the express train.
As I walked down the platform, dressed in a white dress shirt, a pea green shrug, and my high waisted, grey, pin stripped, magic slacks, the train pulled out of the station. The train operator, an older Hispanic man smiled at me. I rolled my eyes.
I passed a beautiful girl with a mini afro that had been dyed blonde. We lock eyes for a second and smiled at the same time. (This seems to be the thing among pretty, natural girls who look like they spend afternoons sipping lattes at New York City Cafes.)
I turned around to look at the display to see when the next train would be arriving. I groaned in my head as I saw a man walking towards me.
I was positive he had fallen victim to the magic pants and was going to talk to me.
I was not in the mood to talk.
I looked past him as he stopped beside me.
He was talking. I half rolled my eyes as I removed one ear bud from my ear and turned toward him.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"How do you stay so in shape?", he asked.
"I eat well," we both looked at the greasy paper bag I was holding and I chuckled and added, "...most of the time."
He argued that I MUST work out. I'm aware the affect these pants have. The high waist accentuates and exaggerates the size of my actual waist.
While it is probably 27in, the hip to waist ratio in these pants makes it look like 25in, easily.
He continues to try to get me to admit that I work out.
He says, "You know, your body is nice but that's not even my biggest attraction to you."
I take a bite of my pizza, staring into his face, waiting for him to continue.
He's kind of handsome. He's a bit older. Maybe in his early 40s. Medium brown complexion. Perfectly lined salt and pepper goatee. He could almost pass for one of the Wayans brothers.
I hated his attire. I wondered if he was an MTA worker getting off work. He carried a backpack.
I wait.
I take another bite of my pizza, "I apologize for being rude and eating but I'm hungry and I don't really care."
He laughs then says, "it's your hair."
"What's my hair?"
"The fact that you are confident enough to rock your natural hair when so many woman need all these extras..."
I was half listening, half thinking, "Where is my train? This pizza is awful!"
He pulls me into the convo and we begin a discussion on people's perception of beauty and Lil Kim and Nicki Minaj.
And the outside influences that shape oue perceptions.
I remove the other ear bud and give him my full attention.
An intelligent convo. I'm actually engaged in it. Smiling and chattering as if we've known each other for years.
He says, "I'm going to stay with you 'till you train comes. I'm not gonna ask you your name cause you're comfortable being rude and I can hear you saying 'none of your business'"
I laugh.
I do not tell him my name.
I do not ask his.
My train is arriving.
He does not ask for my number.
Instead he says, "I hope to see you again tomorrow. If I do, it was meant to be and I'll ask for your name and number."
I smile as I enter the train and sit down.

I didn't see him the next day or the day after that.
Guess it wasn't meant to be.

*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA