My commute

Mine’s a long commute to work, and a boring one. Looking out a train window is like reading the same book, the ending never changes. It’s the same with the view.

So, I’ve found ways to make the time pass. I have games I play. Guessing someone’s name from their appearance. Their personality from their facial features. The status of their relationship from what they’re wearing.

But my favorite game is listening to phone conversations. Because you only get one side and have to piece together what the other person’s saying. Then figure out what’s actually going on.

I close my eyes, pretending to doze so I’m not suspected of eavesdropping. Listen and put together the story.

I’d tagged the chick opposite as a ‘Melinda.’ They’re the nervous, have to please everyone type.

They dress in athleisure but shouldn’t. Melinda’s are typically single and worry they always will be.

She answered her phone pretty much on the first vibration. Without checking who it was. No one does that unless they’re in a state of desperation.

‘…Oh, hi Angie.’

Ok, so her friends Angie. If I tag an Angie on the train, they’re always the bossy, controlling type with an opinion on everything. They have a killer dress sense. They’ve nailed the art of makeup. Date any guy they want. They make great mothers in law. And every chick wishes she was an Angie.

Because it was Monday morning, I was pretty sure the conversation was going to be the weekend. Probably Saturday night. And an Angie can’t wait they need to know the goss.

The Melinda answered Angie’s first question.

‘…Yeah, it went great.’

Ok, got it, she’d been on a first date. But she lied because Melinda’s dates don’t go great. They don’t go on many so they wouldn’t know a great date from a crappy one.

‘…My blue one and the shoe’s I wore to my sister’s wedding, the black ones.’

I couldn’t believe it. What. She wore a blue dress on her first date. It’s the best way to have a guy hoping he gets a text so he can say his mother just died and has to leave.

And you don’t ever wear black wedding shoes again. The first time is a lifetime of embarrassment. You hate the bride for making you.

So, Melinda’s sister was a Lucy. Prettier than her sister because she landed a husband. But its probably headed for divorce. Because Lucy’s are needy and deadly naggers. She’d probably married a Gordon. They’re like labradors, known to stray.

‘…I met him at the fountain in the square at 7.30.’

That means the guys intentionally scoped you. No one's hanging around a fountain at that time. He did, so, he could bail if the profile photo’s old or its been photo shopped. I expected the conversation to end there. I got caught off guard.

‘…We went to Frankie’s restaurant. He’d heard it was great.’

Seriously they went to Frankie’s. I know Frankie’s. It’s a dive. It’s not a restaurant, it’s a sports bar, with forty different sports being shown on TV.’s that cover every wall. And tacky memorabilia. With chicks serving in bikinis.

It doesn’t take reservations. Has no tablecloths. The tables are sticky, you have to peel your arms off of them. Burgers, fries and chicken wings on the menu and not much else. Plus, its noisy. And full of dudes talking crap, unashamedly mentally undressing every woman that walks past. If on the rare occasion a woman gets lost and ventures in. Like I did, once.

Choosing it for a first date says a lot about the guy.

‘…Well, he’s fun. Sorta the quiet type with a quirky sense of humor.’

Ok, I’d got a handle on the guy now. He’s an Eric. He’s just wanting to get laid. Scoping out a first date, going ahead with it, even though she’s wearing a blue dress and black shoes. Then taking her to a sports bar confirmed it.

Fun to a Melinda is anyone who looks at her. Confirmed if they smile. He’s ‘sorta quiet’ because he’s watching the T.V.’s, which is why he chose Frankie’s. And the sense of humor are quips to whatever neanderthals were sitting at the adjoining tables.

They’re quirky to a Melinda because those chicks don’t do sport.

I was curious why Angie hadn’t asked Melinda what Eric looked like. You know, hair, eyes, tattoos, physique, usual stuff. It meant she’d already checked out his profile. It’s the sort of thing Angie’s do, they can’t help themselves.

‘…He ordered for us both.’

Burgers and fries.

‘…Burgers, fries and a beer.’

Of course, I missed the beer. But it was a given.

‘…He’s in sales. And has plans to open his own store one day.’

Code for he works in a furniture store somewhere and says what everyone who does says.

‘…Yeah, I did, A bit too much. I got into the mood.’

So, Melinda drank too much because Eric was plying her with beers, so it shortened the odds on his end game. Predictable.

‘…I’m not sure, he never really said what he likes to do.’

Meaning he has no interests. That’s why he never really said. Other than a summer and a winter sport and porn.

‘…He recently broke up with a long-term girlfriend. He seemed pretty upset and didn’t want to talk about it.’

Bullshit. Eric’s are destined never to have a long-term girlfriend. Caveat…unless they’ve inherited a mint. Then you’ll find them with a Penelope, a Cassandra or one with a porn star’s name, like Misty.

 And he was upset because it shuts down the conversation, Eric’s are too lazy to make up backstories.

‘…I’m not sure, I don’t think he lived with her.’

He didn’t. He lives with a lie. Because who doesn’t live with their long-time whoever. He lives at home with his mom, and she still does his washing. And will until she dies.

‘…He’s only recently started dating again.’

Another thing I should’ve mentioned about Melinda’s is they’re hopeless at picking up vibes or putting things through the bullshit barometer. Or maybe they’re too trusting. Nah, they’re naïve.

And, really, he’s recently started dating again because somehow, god knows how, he got Melinda to go on a date with him.

‘…Yeah, he seemed like the type that’d be interested in having a family.’

That’s the other thing I should’ve said. You’ll often find Angie’s working at the FBI, or as hairdressers or in the legal fraternity. They’re naturally gifted interrogators.

Cause who else asks you if you discussed having a family on a first date. You, probably, are yet to even have had sex.

‘…After dinner he played pool and we listened to the music he likes.’

Meaning he got his buddies to turn up, but pretended he didn’t know them. They’d’ve had childish nicknames. Like ‘dogman,’ ‘stud,’ and ‘gazor.’ And he had them turn up so he didn’t get exposed for having the life of an Eric. Shallow and empty.

He played the music he likes because he always goes the Frankie’s and knows what’s on the juke box. Probably playing Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA, on repeat. Maybe Don McLean’s American Pie.

I know the type of guys that frequent sports bars. They get a patriotic hard on playing a pool cue like an air guitar to that music.

‘…I’d guess he’s late thirties.’

Ok, Angie’s backtracking. She’s realized the stories incomplete. Good. I was thinking the same thing.

So, Eric’s about a decade older than Melinda. That’s an ok gap. And I suspect why she said it. But from what I’d pieced together he’s more likely late forties and to me that’s not cool.

I knew because he’s still hanging out at sports bars, gets his buddies to turn up on a first date. Can’t move on from Bruce Springsteen’s born in the USA and still lives at home with his mom.

‘…Jeans, a T-shirt and a jacket.’

Yeah, predictable. Eric’s don’t make an effort to dress well. It doesn’t make a difference. And I bet the T-shirt had some lame phrase on it, like ‘…built to outlast,’ or ‘…a man’s gotta do.’ And the jacket would’ve been a bomber with his team on it.

Melinda didn’t mention his shoes. They would’ve been work boots with steel caps. Kicked against the kerb so they look worn. And rugged because that’s how Eric’s see themselves. Did I mention they’re delusional?

‘…Yeah, I met some of his friends, we bumped into them at the bar. It was a weird coincidence.’

It wasn’t.

‘…Dogman, gazor and ace. They were really nice.’

Ok, I got one wrong.

‘…At closing.’

She stayed until Frankie’s closed. That’s 1 a.m. Meaning she suffered Eric for more than five hours. Ok, so Melinda wanted to get laid too. Predicable, Melinda’s are desperate. Which I knew.

‘…back to ‘dogman’s’ for drinks. The boys wanted to catch a late game.’

So, this was interesting. Willingly going back to ‘dogman’s’ with a guy she’d just met and two other friends.

‘…I know, Angie. I thought the same thing.’

Which was why didn’t Eric ditch his friends and take Melinda home so they could both get what they wanted. Awkward first date sex. He didn’t because he lives with his mom.

‘…Yeah, ok, I will. My stops coming up, I’ll call you tonight.’

No. You can’t get off. There’s unanswered questions. I feigned waking up, a stretch, a check of my phone, then looking at her surprised.

‘Oh, hey. It’s Melinda, isn’t it? I thought I recognized you when you got on.’

She looked at me perplexed.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you and yes I’m Melinda.’

‘So, are you going on a second date with Eric?’

‘What the hell. How’d you know I even went on a first date with Eric. What are you, one of those clairvoyants?’

‘No, I spend a lot of time on the train. So, are you and did you. You know…with Eric…do it?’

‘Yeah, I’m going on a second date and that’s none of your business. Who the hell are you?’

‘I’m an Angie.’