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I re-embrace my commuter life in July. I used to take the bus but I can't seem to tolerate the traffic any more, so, this time, I take the train.
Not too long ago, I've been "recruited" by a couple of friends from the office to their commuter clique as we happen to take the same line. They took the train as their everyday transport long before me.
People who take the train are varied. You might find your neighbor who happen to be a member of the House of Reps., managers in a multinational company, merchants who have to take their kid(s)/grand kid(s) to their kiosk because nobody can watch them back home, beggars, students, or street performers. You can easily tell by their appearance OR by peeking to their screen phone OR by overheard their conversations. While the only way to recognize the member of the House of Reps.' in a car packed of people remains to be their neighbor.
Speaking of recognizing people by their appearance or by peeking to their stuff or by overheard their conversation, my commuter clique like to casually labelled whether a couple is made up or not. A made up couple is usually a(n allegedly) married man/woman who get too physical with someone other than their S. O. (significant other). It's kind of having an affair on the way to the office/home. My friends told me to check into the couple's finger to spot a wedding ring -- sometimes it's there but come in different color.
I had enough with married man/woman having an affair; friends who are married with kids still hanging out with their exes regularly -- just the two of them without their S.O. (significant other) knowing; friends who just got hitched for less than a year getting way too physical in public with some one other than his/her legal S.O. Having an affair is, indeed, an incurable disease. So I'm not going to talk about it.
A made up couple. Have you ever go out with your male friend who is really cute so you pretend like you are couple just to get a jealous look from the waitress or random people you meet? If so, this is what I called "channelling your inner S.O.". Hahahaha. Why on earth I'm writing about this anyway. I can't help but laughing and I have to take a break before I write the next paragraph.
It's not your fault if you can't help but acting as your friend's S.O. because of their cuteness (or maybe you have crush on him but you are in their friend-zone list or you just want to have that jealous look from random people at the mall or you have this fantasy of him/her and you doing the thing). It might be weird but I like to observe (random) girl and boy who hang out together.
First thing first, I'll find out whether or not they have that shiny circular gold (or white gold) on their finger. Once I find out, I'll observe their gesture, their body language, the smile they throw at each other. Are they a real couple? Or a made up one? If they are a real one, good for them. But I always go with the second assumption.
I wonder what's the story behind them. Was the girl secretly in love with the boy? Or it was the boy who secretly in love with the girl. Was the girl knew he's gay? Was he knew she's lesbian? Were they knew if one of them grab their phone, write a message, just to delete it the next minute in the middle of their hectic day? Were they met on a dating app and run an errand? Were they once a lover and try to rekindle their romance? Were they almost a couple before one of them got hitched? Were they whisper each other names in their prayer? Who am I, a hopeless romantic?
The train is coming. I should be queuing behind the yellow line just like everybody else. Trying to keep my mind from wandering further, inventing a bitter story for every girl and boy I met at the station. All of a sudden, I found his face in the crowd on the opposite platform. He's looking down checking his phone -- any chance he text me? Oh, he's probably just delete it. Or the text wasn't for me. Our eyes met. He smiles -- an action he rarely does. I smiled back. The train interrupted us.
First thing first, I'll find out whether or not they have that shiny circular gold (or white gold) on their finger. Once I find out, I'll observe their gesture, their body language, the smile they throw at each other. Are they a real couple? Or a made up one? If they are a real one, good for them. But I always go with the second assumption.
I wonder what's the story behind them. Was the girl secretly in love with the boy? Or it was the boy who secretly in love with the girl. Was the girl knew he's gay? Was he knew she's lesbian? Were they knew if one of them grab their phone, write a message, just to delete it the next minute in the middle of their hectic day? Were they met on a dating app and run an errand? Were they once a lover and try to rekindle their romance? Were they almost a couple before one of them got hitched? Were they whisper each other names in their prayer? Who am I, a hopeless romantic?
The train is coming. I should be queuing behind the yellow line just like everybody else. Trying to keep my mind from wandering further, inventing a bitter story for every girl and boy I met at the station. All of a sudden, I found his face in the crowd on the opposite platform. He's looking down checking his phone -- any chance he text me? Oh, he's probably just delete it. Or the text wasn't for me. Our eyes met. He smiles -- an action he rarely does. I smiled back. The train interrupted us.
-S 💋
