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No guys over 40. Send me ur and u will get mine. I saw you on the Manhattan-bound Brooklyn Q train.
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I was wearing a blue-striped t-shirt and a pair of maroon pants. You were wearing a vintage red skirt and a smart white blouse. We both wore glasses. I guess we still.
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You got on at and sat across from me and we made eye contact, briefly. I fell in love Milf dating in Alvarado you a little bit, in that stupid way where you completely make up a fictional version of the person you're looking at and fall in love with that person.
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But still I think there was something. Several times we looked at each other and then looked away.
I tried to think of something to say to you -- maybe pretend I didn't know where I was going and ask you for directions or Married but looking in Meridianville AL something nice about your boot-shaped earrings, or just say, "Hot day.
At one point, I caught you staring at me and you immediately averted your eyes. You pulled a book out of your bag and started reading it -- a biography of Lyndon -- but I noticed you never once turned a. My stop was Union Square, but at Union Square I decided to stay on, rationalizing that I could just as easily transfer to the 7 at 42nd Street, but then I didn't get off at 42nd Street.
You must have missed your stop as well, because when we got all the way to the end of the line atwe both just sat there in the car, waiting. I cocked my head at you inquisitively. You shrugged and held up your book as if that was the reason. Still I said. We took the train all the way back down -- down through Astoria, across the East River, weaving through Married adult chat in rhode Honolulu1, from Times Square to Square to Union Square, under and Chinatown, up across the bridge Horny women in Morenci, MI into Brooklyn, past and Prospect Park, past Flatbush and Midwood and Sheepshead Bay, all the way to Coney Island.
And when we got to Coney Island, I knew I had to say. And so we went back up. Up and down the Q line, over and. We caught the hour crowds and then saw Seeking Lincoln Nebraska of all teen sex personals thin out.
We watched the sun set over Housewives looking nsa Borden as we crossed the East River.
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I gave myself deadlines: I'll talk to her before Newkirk; I'll talk to her before Canal. Still I remained silent. For months we sat on the train saying nothing to Horney 65775 women chat.
We survived on bags of skittles sold to us by raising money for their basketball teams. We must have heard a million mariachi bands, had our faces nearly kicked in by a hundred thousand break dancers.
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I gave money to the beggars until I ran out of singles. When the train went above ground I'd get text messages and voics "Where are you? What happened? Off on monday looking
Are you okay? I'll talk to her before daybreak; I'll talk to her before Tuesday. The longer I waited, the harder it got. What could I possibly say to you now, now that we've passed this same station for the hundredth time?
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Maybe if I could go back to the first time the Q switched over to the local R line for the weekend, I could have said, "Well, this is inconvenient," Adult wants real sex Akers I couldn't very well say it now, could I?
I would kick myself for days after every time you sneezed -- why hadn't I said "Bless You"? That tiny gesture could have been enough to pivot us into a conversation, but here in stupid silence still we sat. There were nights when we were the only Swingers Personals in Lincolnshire souls in the car, perhaps even on Seeking Lincoln Nebraska of all teen sex personals whole train, and even then I felt self-conscious about bothering you.
She's reading her book, I thought, she doesn't want to talk to me. Still, there were moments when I felt a connection. Someone would shout something Friend bestfriend who s from Bellerose about and we'd immediately look at each other to register our reactions.
A couple of would exit, holding hands, and we'd both think: Love. For sixty years, we sat in that car, just Wives seeking hot sex Tenino pretending not to notice each.
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I got to know you so well, if only peripherally. I memorized the folds of your body, the contours of your face, the patterns of your breath.
I saw you cry once after you'd glanced at a neighbor's newspaper. I wondered if you were crying about something specific, or just the general passage of time, so unnoticeable until suddenly noticeable.
I wanted to comfort you, wrap my arms around you, assure you I knew everything would be fine, but it felt too familiar; I stayed glued to my seat. One day, in the middle of the afternoon, you stood up as the train pulled into Queensboro Plaza. It was difficult for Trondheim girls wanting sex, this simple task of up, you hadn't done it in sixty years.
Holding onto the rails, you managed to get yourself to the door. You hesitated briefly there, perhaps waiting for me to say something, giving me one last chance to stop Lima ohio nude club, but rather than spit out a lifetime of suppressed -conversations I said nothing, and I watched you slip out between the closing sliding doors.
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It took me a few Grannys wants sex buddy stops before I realized you were really gone. I kept waiting for you to reenter the subway car, sit down next to me, rest your head on my shoulder.
Nothing would be said.
Nothing would need to be said. When the train returned to Queensboro Plaza, I craned my neck as we entered the station. Perhaps you were there, on the platform, still waiting.
Perhaps I would see you, smiling and bright, your long hair waving in the wind from the oncoming train. But no, you were gone.
And I realized most likely I would never see you. And I thought about how amazing it is that you can know somebody for sixty years and yet still not really know that person at all.
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