Remember I was telling ya’ll last week about this fine brother I was seeing on my commute?
Last week I wrote a little note, and put in the pages of my train journal, and hoped for two days to see him and didn’t.
Today I saw him again. Without looking at him, I got onto the train car he was in, and sat behind him.
I looked at his lovely bald head, and tried to ignore the racing of my heart, burying my head in the iCreate magazine… choosing to attempt concentration on Steve Jobs life story, rehashed for this publication.
Couldn’t help peeping though… I wanted to get a little closer so I could have a better look (out of the corner of my eye…. don’t want to be too bold) but didn’t want to appear too bold by just going and sitting down next to him.
A woman in two rows away gave me an opportunity though. Didn’t notice much when she went to the bathroom, but LAWD OI! I noticed when she came back…. the pungent odor chased me from my seat opposite the toilet and into the seat opposite that fine brother.
Should have guessed that irony would soon follow.
After a good eyeball, surreptitiously gathered to be sure, my disappointment unfurled when I saw the plain gold band around his finger on his left hand.
My deep internal sigh was followed by and equally internal, “I hope she’s treating you right brother, and you never lack for emotional resonance and good pussy.”
I badlucky no ass, oui?
At least the Jamaican will not be dissuaded… much to my surprise, because I am very distant and removed from that situation.
‘ve told him I don’t feel the same way about him, but he will not be dissuaded.
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