I fell in love on the bus this morning.
The bus was more crowded than usual but after a few stops I got a seat in the very back row. I immediately took out the crossword puzzle as I do every day and got to work on it. At one point I looked up to think about a clue and caught sight of this guy - a man really - sitting across from me. Because of our position, I could safely look at him without it seeming too awkward. And so I did. Every couple minutes I would glance up from my puzzle and stare. Watching him, I didn't feel a flutter of butterflies I usually feel when something or someone piques my interest. Instead, I felt remarkably calm and contented.
He doesn't have striking looks but might be considered handsome. What first caught my attention was that his hair, his eyes and his beard are all the exact same shade of brown. This won't make sense but it reminded me of a comfortable pair of corduroy pants. It's hard to tell how old he is and I think the beard might make him appear older, but I would guess that he's in his mid-30s. While I have never liked guys with facial hair, I found his beard to be a necessity, giving him a mature, laid-back appearance and heightening the intensity of his perfectly matched brown eyes and hair.
He was reading a book I hadn't heard of called Straight Man. I've since looked it up on Amazon and it seems to be a humorous story about the absurdities of a middle-aged English professor. Did I mention that I want to be a college professor? The most endearing thing about this guy was that the pages of his book were yellowed around the edges. Something about this guy sitting on the bus with his beautiful brown hair and an aged copy of a 10-year old book drove me absolutely insane.
When I felt like I had been watching his face for too long (it turned out he never looked up from the pages of his book and so never caught me staring), I would sheepishly drop my gaze to his sneakers. Skechers. What man wears Skechers, I wondered. Was he trying to counter the masses of New Balance and Nike wearers? Was he a trendsetter in his office and the first to make Skechers acceptable for grown men? Or was he indifferent and simply bought what was comfortable and affordable? It seemed the type of thing someone would wear if their mom dressed them. Oh boy, did he live with his mom? And then I looked, as I inevitably do, to his left hand. Despite the 21 degree weather, he wasn't wearing gloves. Or maybe he was but he removed them to turn the pages of his book, as I had to fill in my crossword puzzle. Whatever the reason, his uncovered left hand revealed a simple platinum band on the fourth finger. Of course he's married. Of course. A girl would be a fool to let him slip through her fingers.
He looked, sitting on a crowded city bus and so thoroughly lost in the pages of his book, he looked so peaceful and agreeable. I imagine he's the type of husband who tolerates his wife's stories of office gossip with an interested nod and a sympathetic smile. He would rather crack open a beer and watch The Office (the original BBC version naturally), but instead he stands with her in the kitchen, rubbing her back when she passes him to put dishes in the cupboard.
I kept staring at him, waiting for a glimpse into his world. Around us, others were fidgeting with their iPods or cell phones or rustling the pages of the paper. Those who were unfortunate to have to stand would shuffle and lean as the bus lurched and started. But he sat perfectly still, never moving except to turn a page, never looking up to verify his surroundings or to see if his stop was approaching. So engrossed was he that his eyes never flitted from the pages of the book, even when I was sure that my steadfast gaze must be burning a hole into his head. He never said a word, never coughed or sniffled, never made a sound.
He was on the bus when I got on and stayed on after I got off. For thirty-five minutes he remained perfectly still and silent. Perfectly wonderful to gaze at and wonder about. I'm quite sure I'll never see him again. But I'm in love.
