i used to take a train in to work every morning and afternoon. there was a woman i couldn't help but stare at. i always felt sort of like a creep but she was just so beautiful. in a classical, wholesome sort of way. much too innocent looking for my current state of disarray.
i caught the train at the easternmost station, so it would be there for about a half hour before making its way west. i used to sit in the same seat, a high window, on the road side, watching passengers arrive. many were regular; some were not.
one morning this woman arrived and got onto my car - what the? - and proceeded to bound up the stairs quickly, say good morning, and pass me a slip of paper. i scarcely had enough time to blurt out "morning" and she was gone, off the train, into the passenger seat of a truck, and away.
my heart pounded in severe confusion. it was a cross between hopeful desperation fulfilled and dread.
the note read:
The reason you catch me staring at you is because you are beautiful.
beautiful? me? i'll tell you i work a blue-collar job. high-tech, but blue-collar. at the time i was a scruffy, unkept bit of a mess. beautiful?
well, i vowed to approach this beauty and say the same thing. after all, it was me who was staring at her, right?
she wasn't there for the rest of the week. and during this week, my resolve weakened a little more every day. i began to have doubts. i picked her for thirty-something or late twenties. i can't say why. but i was thinking things like "isn't a note a little bit elementary?" and things like "i could never introduce her to my friends, therefore it could never work."
it was two weeks before she re-boarded the train. i was petrified and avoided her. after that week of avoidance there was no turning back. i would get off extra-slow on the way home to give her time to get away. show up early to allow me the same.
i felt like a shit. it still occasionally haunts me. how could i have done that, knowing my own fear of talking to strangers i wish to talk to, girls i'd like to ask out on a date. fuck. i used to wish so badly for women to approach me, as i can't approach them. when it happens i still fuck up.
i know if it was me who gave that note, i would probably not do it again, having got the cold shoulder. i shudder with the possibility of what i might have done to diminish this other person's self-esteem. how i diminish my own.
i caught the train at the easternmost station, so it would be there for about a half hour before making its way west. i used to sit in the same seat, a high window, on the road side, watching passengers arrive. many were regular; some were not.
one morning this woman arrived and got onto my car - what the? - and proceeded to bound up the stairs quickly, say good morning, and pass me a slip of paper. i scarcely had enough time to blurt out "morning" and she was gone, off the train, into the passenger seat of a truck, and away.
my heart pounded in severe confusion. it was a cross between hopeful desperation fulfilled and dread.
the note read:
The reason you catch me staring at you is because you are beautiful.
beautiful? me? i'll tell you i work a blue-collar job. high-tech, but blue-collar. at the time i was a scruffy, unkept bit of a mess. beautiful?
well, i vowed to approach this beauty and say the same thing. after all, it was me who was staring at her, right?
she wasn't there for the rest of the week. and during this week, my resolve weakened a little more every day. i began to have doubts. i picked her for thirty-something or late twenties. i can't say why. but i was thinking things like "isn't a note a little bit elementary?" and things like "i could never introduce her to my friends, therefore it could never work."
it was two weeks before she re-boarded the train. i was petrified and avoided her. after that week of avoidance there was no turning back. i would get off extra-slow on the way home to give her time to get away. show up early to allow me the same.
i felt like a shit. it still occasionally haunts me. how could i have done that, knowing my own fear of talking to strangers i wish to talk to, girls i'd like to ask out on a date. fuck. i used to wish so badly for women to approach me, as i can't approach them. when it happens i still fuck up.
i know if it was me who gave that note, i would probably not do it again, having got the cold shoulder. i shudder with the possibility of what i might have done to diminish this other person's self-esteem. how i diminish my own.
posted by charmakarmacat at 11:57 PM
1 Comments:
i don't know why there aren't any comments. i don't give this page out to very many people, and i suppose there aren't many who just "happen" upon it. or perhaps only the silent ones read it.
in all honesty it sometimes makes me a little empty that no one has thus far chosen to comment. like being alone when you know it's you who has shut and barred the door, unplugged the phone and screamed to be left alone. all locked up and in and still wishing for a visitor. irrational, but very real nevertheless.
i do get a few responses emailed, mostly from one person in particular, but sometimes i must admit to logging on and wishing to see that i've touched someone. some anonymous entity who has found me and maybe feels slightly less unconnected from the cold of the world, having read my thoughts.
i feel that we all wish to be understood. some more completely than others.
thank you, LJ. for the comment and the little note in your life.
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