Will one and one make two?

Will one and one make two?

Seldom have I been more excited. The anticipation is palpable. I can taste it. Blueberries I think.

I love the feeling of meeting the person that could potentially be the one. I know, I know. I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Not before even exchanging the first word, but having been disappointed so many times, revelling in this moment may well be as good as it gets.

Oh. That’s my train finally appeared on the main board. Ten minutes to wait now. I can handle that. Jesus, stop biting your bloody nails.

I spent so long trying to make the best of myself. Polishing the turd, some might say, and now I go and make my hands look like I’m a cannibal.

Right, let’s go and see if I can get a seat on this thing. What is it about train stations and airports that are so compelling? The prosaic people that I would pass in the street without a second glance suddenly seem interesting. Is it because we are ships in the night? Is it the taboo allure of strangers?

Take the woman in front of me now for instance. Lemon top, cyan skirt and puke green shoes. Brave choice lady. Yet, I want to smile at her. Hope we sit together. Maybe she’s the one. Stop it!

That’s my real problem. I don’t have an off switch for the ‘she’s the one’” feeling. Okay, let’s just try and think of something else.

My god, this train is filthy. I wonder if they ever wash the bloody things. Now, there’s a job I’d do. Train washing. How satisfying would that be? Okay, in Winter, I’d probably freeze my proverbials off, but turning something grimy into shiny would be far more satisfying than accountancy.

How does it sound rolling off the tongue, though? “Hi, I wash trains. The problem with “Hi, I’m an accountant” is the glazing over that it inevitably engenders. There are no follow-up questions. No one ever says, “My, that is interesting. Tell me more about sums.”

Yet, Samantha read my profile, knows I’m a number cruncher and still got in touch. Hope springs eternal. The best thing is that she only lives twenty minutes away on the train, so if today’s liaison goes well, we will be able to see each other regularly.

Brilliant! A seat. This must be my lucky day, as Lemon girl, no, I know what it is, she looks like my old budgie. Budgie babe is making to sit opposite. Probably shouldn’t call her ‘babe’ though.

What would Samantha think if she knew I was flirting with another woman on the way to our first face-to-face anyway? I’d best leave the lovely lemon alone.

Tell you what, I’ll sneak another peak at Samantha’s photo. Nice smile. Brunette, I’m more of a blond man but let’s not be a hair nazi. Has her own business. So, she shows initiative, and she’s likely intelligent. I like that in a woman. At 28, Samantha is just two years younger than the age I put in my profile. A match made in heaven, indeed.

Oh, the Canary Queen is checking out my red shoes. Seems to be smiling, not laughing. It can swing both ways. I know my foot attire doesn’t really go with the wavy navy suit, but they are a conversation starter. They’re definitely better than writing ‘speak to me please’ on my forehead. However, I have to admit that I have not tried that yet.

That’s the train moving at last. Tweety Pie just sat, and it looks as if I’ve lost her now. Like 90% of the rest of the passengers, her nose is firmly glued to her mobile. Colour scheme aside, she’s cute, though. Blonde, so one up on Samantha. Nice legs, a pretty face and expensive looking wedding ring. Damn! She’s tapping the gold band on the back of her phone as if to say, “Out of bounds, matey.” Oh well, I never liked her anyway.

No, Samantha it is. She’s the one for me. I wonder if my intended will meet me off the train? I can picture her now, standing alone on the platform, a pensive tear in her eye, and as prearranged, a copy of Jane Eyre under her arm. The steam from the engine billows about her ankles. As I alight, she runs into my open arms. We hug, we kiss, of course, the two of us live happily ever after.

Two of us? I wonder if she wants children? Maybe I should have asked during our email interchange. I want three. One of each. What if she doesn’t? Will that be a deal breaker? A red mark on her ledger?

I bet the canary would give me kids. Why is Sam so against the idea? I’ve got it. I’ll go ahead and marry Sammy. Then we can adopt the sprogs that my Tweety affair will inevitably produce. There we go, sorted.

Right, there’s the lurch that tells me we are slowing and coming into the station. I have a pretty good view of the platform, but there is no sign of Samantha. Oh well, she’s likely opening the wine, lighting the honey-scented candles and slipping into something a little more comfortable. I hope I don’t smell of train.

A lot of peeps are getting off here. Bonus: I’ve angled to be pressed up against the blonde budgie in the crush for the doors.  Enraptured by her intoxicating coconut perfume, the mundane train fades away, and the two of us stroll, hand in hand, along a sun-baked Caribbean shore. Nice, but all too soon, our sand-filled sandals revert to train door handles, and we spill onto the palmless platform.

Should I maybe get Samantha a gift? Perfume? Flowers? I really need to figure out what to do on these occasions. I don’t want to appear overly keen, yet a good first impression will go a long way. No, let’s play this one cool. I’ll try not to seem desperate for once. I’ll go for the “I’m here to meet, but if this doesn’t work out, I have a few more irons in the fire,” look.

Bugger it. Budgie babe, yeah, I’m sticking with it, Budgie babe has the affront to stand before me, hugging and kissing a tall man. Okay, he probably is her husband, but she could be a bit more discreet in light of the obvious ‘thing’ that went on between the two of us during the trip. Harlot! I’m finished with her.

Where did Sam say to meet? Oh yeah, I have to go to her office. Kinky. Hell, I’m open to new things. Luckily, it’s just a two-minute walk, as although these shoes are real babe magnets, they really kill my feet.

Ah, here we are though.

“Hi, I’m here to meet Samantha.”

“Oh yes, sir. Please take a seat with the other accountant job candidates over there.”