So there I was, just a couple of weeks ago, having one of those one-in-a-million days of absolute fabulousness. By all counts, I was on my A-game. I was coming home from a work function and a day of general bad-assery, and I looked hot. Have you had that kind of day? When everything feels like it's falling perfectly into place for your benefit? And your outfit is perfect, which racks up your confidence points like no one's business? I had on my favorite black pencil skirt with a super chic fuchsia blouse and those shoes. You know the ones. Not to mention my hair was completely on point. I felt great, and everything I'd set out to do that day, I had knocked out of the park. The Force was strong with me.
And there's nothing like that feeling of self-assuredness to really make you feel like you could have a man eating out of the palm of your hand if you wanted to. The even better part, though? I didn't care. I could make a guy putty for me, but I was too busy being fabulous to worry about men that day.
Me and my shoes have a world to conquer. Step aside.
But I stepped on the train to go home and there he was: Mr. Charming.
Every now and again you come across someone who makes the entire room stand still for a split second. It happened in the space of a breath, and then everything sped up again, leaving me with that familiar heady flush of attraction. But lest anyone has forgotten, I was too busy world-conquering to care about this guy, attractive or not. I noticed him, but I didn't bother sitting anywhere near him. Especially when I was still enjoying my shimmering aura of success.
I'm one of those people who gives up her seat for the elderly, so a few stops later I was standing by the door, placing me and Mr. Charming back in one another's proximity. Again, I noticed him. He was a pilot, in uniform, and I spared his badge a brief glance to see which airline. I could have batted my eyelashes or sent a flirty smile his way, but instead I turned my attention to a necessary call to my grandparents. Which I believe I can peg as the exact moment that all of my cool vibes slipped away. I rarely make phone calls on public transit, unless the car isn't full, and when I do, I keep my voice down. I didn't take into account that I would end up half-shouting to accommodate my grandfather's poor hearing. Oops. I'm pretty sure that entire train car became privy to the fact that I had just come off an internal job interview, and that I'm a flight attendant.
It was about the time that I hung up that Mr. Charming got up and stood across from me to strike up conversation. "So you're a flight attendant?"
I had to laugh, probably turning bright red from the embarrassment. "Gee? How did you guess?" I quipped, knowing he, more than anyone, had probably been in perfect earshot of my entire conversation.
Remember how my cool had slipped away? Well, all of this may be sounding really perfect and quaint, but there was one teeny tiny little issue: He got up to chat with me one train station away from my stop.
Even as he asked me one or two questions, I could sense the impending nearness of the cut-off point. In a flurry of panic my brain apparently decided BUT THIS IS MY STOP I MUST GET OFF HERE OR EVERYTHING GOES TO HELL IN A HAND-BASKET. In one swift movement, I stepped past Mr. Charming and off the train.
It was like being doused with cold water.
I froze on the train platform, shocked by my own stupidity. What had I done? Why, oh why, did I get off the train? I could have stayed on for one or even two more stops, just to give him a chance to ask for my number! For God's sake! Haven't I learned better than this by now? Am I still as hopeless as I was when I was 16?
Languishing under the weight of my mistake all the way home, I seriously debated using his name and company to look him up on social media. Ultimately I decided internet-stalking him was beneath me and it would be creepy and desperate to send him a message after a rushed 3-minute conversation. Even if he did have a smile that could make you weak in the knees.
That, and I couldn't find him on social media anyway, despite my mad google skills.
Even as I first began writing this post, I couldn't help kicking myself. Why, oh why, did I get off the train? I thought yet again. As if bemoaning the blunder could undo it. I was quite certain I would never see Mr. Charming again. But oh well. After an afternoon of self-chastisement, I let it go.
Which is why it was so surprising a few days later when I received a Facebook request from the man himself. Plot twist.
Yeah, remember me and my self-proclaimed mad google skills? Well, apparently I actually did find him. On LinkedIn. For those of you unaware—or, like me, you just completely spaced out and forgot—LinkedIn lets people see who's been viewing their profile. He recognized me.
What happened next? That's a story for next time.