Train of Thought: Until We Meet Again

By nature, I'm a pretty shy guy. People that know me (or think they do) may believe otherwise, but it's true. Sure, I come out my shell when in the company of friends and loved ones, but outside of that I'm pretty quiet—especially when it comes to women. Don’t be fooled by the blogs and wild drunken stories, I'm never overtly aggressive and any signs of interest in a female are very subtle—for better or worse.

Although I still wave the shy flag every now and again, I've definitely come a long way in my approach to women. Especially after my recent vacation. I learned a lot about myself and that’s translated into a bit more confidence, but we’ll delve into that in another post. Despite my personal growth, I still fear rejection like everybody else, maybe sometimes more than most, but I understand that I am a work in progress.

Rearranging my crib the other day I came across my old book of poetry. As I flipped through the sheets and sheets of pages, I stumbled upon a poem I wrote for this beautiful girl I saw on the train one day while on my way to class. If memory serves me correctly, I was seated in one of the two-seaters on the E train and she was directly across from me. She had a caramel complexion with curly shoulder-length hair and had her head down most of the ride feverishly writing something, a paper for class I would imagine. Anyway, I was totally captivated by this beautiful creature across from me, but I was way too shy to approach her. Besides, she looked busy and I would probably just be a nuisance.

After riding the same New York train line for a while you get the ability to sense what stop people are getting off. This was late morning and she was riding the first car of the E train, so chances were she'd be getting off at my stop, 51st St. & Lexington to transfer to the 6 train. Shoot, she might even go to my school. Whatever the case, I couldn’t take my eyes off this woman and felt the urge to do something but I was just too chicken-shit. That's when it hit me: I'd write her a poem.

Around that time I was heavy into poetry. I wrote poems just to be creative and for my friends for their birthdays and whatnot. In fact, a few years later it would be my poems that got my last girlfriend to fall for me. But that too is another story for another post…

Right there on the spot, I went into my book bag, pulled out my notebook and started writing a poem inspired by and dedicated to this woman sitting across from me. I’ll be the first to admit that my handwriting is shitty, but I had to write quickly on the off chance she got off before me. So I scribbled out a rough draft, edited it and carefully rewrote the poem in as neat as possible handwriting that I could. I saved the original so I could have a copy for my own personal archives and jotted my name and number with the following message at the bottom of the paper: If you like the poem, give me a call, Anslem. 718-555-8264.

I finished my rewrite just as the train pulled into 51st St. & Lexington. I got up anticipating her getting off as well, but she stayed seated. Fuck! My whole plan of passing her the note as we rode the long-ass escalator up was out the window. Shit! Think fast. Think fast.

I approached her timidly, "Uh, excuse me... I wrote this for you." She looked up at me with a quizzical look on her face as I practically shoved the folded piece of paper with my verbal art in her face before hurrying off the train before the doors closed. Needless to say, she never called and I never saw her again.

For those wondering, here’s the actual poem unedited: