So this wasn’t the post that I had planned today.
When I sat down to write however, I had the most overwhelming urge to write this instead. If any of you follow me on social media (and if you don’t, why the hell not?! Twitter | YouTube | Instagram | – shameless plug, soz) then you might have guessed that I’m not feeling all too happy at the moment. I’m not going to go into details, but the unhappier I am the more I can’t get this incident out of my head. Because it was before everything else.
I fell in love with a stranger on a train.
It was on the way to London. I was sad because of, well the same thing that has me sad now actually, and I was feeling a little hopeless. The train pulled away from the station and people were settling into their seats and I noticed his luggage first. The telltale monochrome print of an authentic Louis Vuitton overnight bag. And in that moment I knew…
Ok that is a tad over dramatic, but my heart definitely skipped a beat. The bag had been preceded into the carriage by a wave of gorgeous aftershave, so I just had a feeling the person the luggage belonged to would be heart stoppingly beautiful. I wasn’t wrong. Willing him to sit next to me just so I could enjoy 20 minutes of awkward ‘I can’t look at him’ glances until I had to swap trains, my heart quickened as the bag stopped level with my seat, and then swung into the empty one across the aisle from me. I looked out of the window at the ever darkening landscape outside, instead seeing his reflection shining back at me as he removed his jacket and got himself settled. Then he looked over, and my heart stopped.
Frantically I searched in my bag for headphones, anything to provide me with a distraction. I looked up, he looked down quickly. He looked up, and I looked down quickly.
We carried on this way for a while, neither of us saying anything, never quite making eye contact. He was just so beautiful. Tanned skin, a hint of a beard and caramel coloured hair falling across his face. Honestly, I was in love.
I toyed with the idea of writing my number down for him – just casually dropping it into his lap as I walked off the train, leaving behind an air of mystery and intrigue, but before I knew it the train was pulling into the station, I hadn’t found a pen and it was too late.
He walked off, and I walked behind him. Neither of us spoke. We left the train and went our separate ways, both with a slight lift in our step, neither of us looking back.