#55 - Put A 'Here's Looking At You' In The MX Magazine

A couple of Mondays ago engrossed in book, I didn't look up until I was two stations away from my destination. I was on my way to work.  Glancing up and to my left I saw someone familiar.  I knew his face as we'd met on a prior occasion.  I recalled he had an accent.  Was it French?  Italian?  Something South America perhaps?  I couldn't remember and I couldn't pick it.  'He wouldn't remember me' I thought to myself as I often do if I see someone I've met only once before.  The train pulled into Central station, I disembarked and walked to work without another thought about the French / Italian / South American man.


Later, settling in at my desk for the usual 'Moanday mourning' as I like to call it, switching on the computer, shuffling papers and sipping tea, a voice to my right says to me 'Hey, I saw you on the train this morning."  I turn towards the voice and ... it's Him!  The French man / Italian Stallion / South American!  Frog / Ferrari / Fajita!  Where is he from anyway??  Frog is speaking to me about seeing me on the train.  I, aghast and shellshocked at how instantly I am drawn to this man, can barely stop myself from ...  Coming.  Across.  Weird.  How can I not notice how cute he is?  Frog and I continue to talk but he's picked up on my reaction and I have weirded him out.  Nice one.  Good on me.  We finish chit chat and he walks on by.


Sacred bovine, now I know where I've seen him before.  I work with him!!  In my defence I must point out that I only recently moved desks, onto the same floor as Frog.  Otherwise interaction has been minimal. 


The next day I see him at his desk in the morning.  He waves at me, I smile at him.  That afternoon I am walking up the stairs, he can not see me but he can hear someone's footsteps on the stairs, waits and lets me in the door to the office.  The next morning I'm walking up the stairs, I can hear someone's footsteps behind me but I can not see them.  I wait and hold the door open.  It's Frog.  We exchange smiles and he says thank you.  I see him at work.  I am compelled to steal glimpses of him when he's not looking.


Tuesday I decide to put a 'Here's Looking at You' in the MX magazine.  Wednesday they print it.  Thursday morning I arrive at my local suburban station to catch the train into the city for work.  He is there.  We board the train together, stand in the crowded aisle together chatting about this and that and then walk to work together.  I have no idea if he has seen the MX or not: 

Turns out Frog is not French after all.  A few sentences into our conversation I pick his accent as South African.   He grew up on a farm, like me.  He wears no wedding band and when he speaks about his plans, his weekend, his house there is no mention of "we" or "my wife and I".  I sneak  some glances his way when he isn't looking and really study his face.  He's not so much hot or good looking as 'cute'.  It's a comfortable chat with some comfortable silences.  Was there spark?  Not sure.  Should there be?  That's up for debate.


Once upon a time, I gave up on spark, dismissing it as minutia.  A question I have previously asked of a few friends in regards to romantic engagements 'Do you think spark is important?' resulted in most people saying they didn't know and a lesser amount replying a definite 'yes'. My recent relationship with a wonderful, warm, intelligent, funny, awesome guy was everything it should have been minus that indefinable feeling, that spark, the 'must have' x factor that completely magnatises one to another.  Maybe if we had spark, I would still have him.  Sigh.


While I'm not saying I'm definitely interested romantically in Frog, I have noticed him and perhaps he, me.  All I can and am willing to do is continue to be friendly and warm, if it's reciprocated.  Maybe I'll make a new friend?  Maybe I'll just have someone to talk to on the train occasionally or maybe we'll never speak again.  Meanwhile though with no expectations I have a small piece of excitement to look forward to each day and the possibilities are yet to be written...