With Valentine’s Day fast approaching I thought it was about time that we discussed matters of the heart, more specifically matters of the sidelong glances of those who ride public transit.
Between Monday and Thursday I spend almost 2 hours each day aboard the subway. To and fro I go, typically over-heating and frazzled OR head nodding off, dangerously close to the person next to me. And I’m not the only one. Apparently 2.67 million other folks are riding the TTC daily. And of those 2.67 million, a good handful of them are eye candy worthy.
On commutes when I’ve forgotten my current read, have grown tired of my marketing textbook, and require another way to entertain myself, I turn to old faithful: scouring the public transit crowds for the good looking gents. Admit it, I’m not the only one. When the opportunity (in this case a strapping young lad) presents itself, you feast upon the eye candy, as slyly as you are able. There are three levels of eye candy interaction on public transit.
Firstly, there’s the innocent locking eyes, looking away, stealing a glance, and then exiting the subway at your stop nonetheless. This encounter is more in-keeping with the traditional rules of eye candy in that you’re just looking from a distance, just for amusement, and that’s that.
Then there’s the fabled exchange of digits. I know of people who have had this happen to them, and I must admit, it sounds pretty exciting for a ride on the subway. One gal I know began the exchange as a level one interaction, your basic scenario. But when she exited the subway the gentleman gallantly leapt from the departing train to give her his number. *Sigh*. How romantic. However, I think if this had happened to me, I would imagine the worst, assume the fellow was unstable and run for cover.
Lastly there’s the kind of exchange Michael Fassbender was looking for when he utilized public transit in the movie Shame. If you haven’t seen it, I’ll leave the details to your imagination as I think they might be too racy for this blog.
As of late I’ve noticed that the subway acts as a sort of game of roulette. As it pulls up to the station, gliding across the platform until it comes to a halt, your fate hangs in limbo for a moment. You look out the window and see the individuals waiting for the subway to stop and to allow them upon the vessel, but who will your door stop at? My luck thus far is minimal in this game. My door passes the Ryan Gosling look-a-like, the Dr. McDreamy in his scrubs, and just when I think I might be so lucky for it to stop at the Fantastic Silver Fox…nope…ding ding ding…the game is over and some guy wearing a trench coat and socks with bare legs gets on, or a lady with hundreds of grocery bags, “Please, take my seat”.
Yes, I may sound a little creepy, but it’s all in good fun and I doubt there’s a bored commuter out there who hasn’t done the same. Here’s hoping the universe serves me a Gyllenhaal soon, instead of a Pee-Wee.