Train Tales Part 5: Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

U8.

Northbound.

Robin Thicke is singing to me. He claims to be lost without me. No matter how convincing he sounds, considering the fact that his beautiful wife Paula Patton is pregnant with his baby, I don’t quite believe him but that’s another story.

It’s late. Not too many people on the train.

A bit further away, opposite to me, there’s a guy, sitting next to a woman that appears to be his mother. Dude (let’s call him Martin, because he looked like someone that could go by that name) is staring at a woman I can’t see, because she has turned her back to me. The three of them are in an exciting conversation. I don’t know what they’re talking about, I still have Mr. Thicke all up in my ear, I can just see Martin (and Marty’s mom, of course, but she really doesn’t matter here).

I think I stared at Martin the entire train ride. Not because he was particularly good looking, handsome or anything of that matter. I stared at Martin because he was madly in love. In love with the girl I couldn’t see because she never did me the favor to turn around. I don’t know if she was particularly good looking, pretty or anything of that matter, but Martin was crazy about her. You could see it written all over his entire being.  The kind of crazy where he probably felt he couldn’t survive a single day without her. I imagined how he’d wait until she was asleep before he allowed himself to close his eyes just because he probably liked a funny thing she did with her nose or a weird ass sound she made right before she crossed to lala-land or something like that. He was probably the kind of guy that would secretly wait for the day she’d leave him while being terrified of this thought at the same time, asking himself, why oh why she had chosen him (and not the disco) and wondering how he’d manage to keep her by his side. He seemed to be so proud of her, basically inhaling everything she said. I swear, he looked like he could feed on her words and her smell alone.

I liked Martin. And I must admit that I was jealous of him. He was obviously in fucking love and I was trying to figure out if I could treat myself to those lovely Filippa K. boat shoes I had seen the other day.

And I was worried about him.

Before getting off the train I made a wish: I hoped she’d never break his heart. He looked like he’d never recover from it.

PS: I bought the boat shoes.

Tags: Filippa K.