Burning my shirt

Saturday night I went out for Sushi in Bed Stuy with Alex. It was a chilly night so it took me forever to get dressed to meet him. Everything I own is ugly, old, boring, too summery, too wintery or doesn't fit right. I finally settled on a tee shirt that fit nice but had something dumb written on the front.    I bought this shirt years ago but have never worn it out of the house.  When I was in the store, I thought it was kind of sassy or something.  When I got home, I realized, it was just lame. 

I wore it Saturday because I reasoned that 1) having never worn it out, I'm not bored of it, 2) I'm just going out with Alex, 3) I never meet anyone I want to talk to so it doesn't matter what's written on the shirt, 4) it fits nice and doesn't make me look like a nun.

Dinner was nice.  The sushi place offered brown rice sushi, which I appreciate.  We walked over to Sweet Melissa in Park Slope afterward.  It was nice spending time in what I'm hoping will be my future neighborhood.  During the walk, I got to expand my mental map of that area of Brooklyn and stitch it together with my map of the Slope. 

Anyway, we decided to call it an early night so I hopped on the R train with Alex so I could transfer to the Q at DeKalb.  I sat down on the platform to wait next to a very petite Asian woman.  A few minutes later someone came and sat in between us and started talking to her like they saw each other on the train often.  She said that she hadn't seen him yesterday, he said something about what time the train comes into the station on Saturday nights.  I sat there reading my book. 

Then I noticed that the person sitting next to me had the biggest foot I have ever seen and his pants were just a few inches to short.  When the train pulled in, I purposely stood a little close to him to estimate his height and let him notice mine.  He was much taller than me.  In fact, I found out when someone else on the train asked him, that he was SEVEN feet tall. 

He sat down and started doing the sexiest thing a man can do.  He started reading.  I wracked my brain trying to think of how I could start a conversation with him without appearing crazy.  Talking about books was out because I happened to be reading chick lit (which I never ever usually do), talking about height would have to be done carefully but it could also back fire. 

I missed my opportunity when I sat down away from him.  I told myself, if he gets off at my stop, I'll say something.  In the mean time, I noticed that he had this wonderful awkwardness about him.  He was a reader, he was awkward and most of all, he was a Super Tall. 

Super Talls are a rare breed of tall men that don't usually get a lot of female attention.  They, like me, are just simply too tall.  I've always thought I should date a Super Tall so we could both be tall and awkward together.  We'd make each other feel right sized and design our house to meet our height.  We'd create our world so everyone else was short and we were normal.  We'd people the world with enormous, awkward, nerdy children.

I sat there kicking myself for not saying anything and made up my mind that if he got off at my stop, I'd strike up a conversation.  I knew that he'd probably be gone from the train by then but I said to myself, "If he gets off at your stop, take it as a sign and speak up.  You're reasonably attractive enough, tall enough, he doesn't have a ring on.  You can do this."  So when my stop came and he got off the train, I felt my stomach to a back flip.  I walked down the stairs of the train, slowly approached him from behind, opened my mouth to say something, anything, to make him turn around and give me a shot... quickly I closed my mouth back up, turned tail and ran away.  I walked all the way back home kicking myself for not even managing to get one word out.

I went upstairs to brush my teeth, still so angry at myself for not taking a shot.  Yes, I probably would have come off as deranged.  Yes, I know nothing about him.  He may even be way too young for me, it's hard to tell with a Super Tall.  Then I looked in the mirror and saw it.  I saw the stupid shirt.  Immediately I was filled with relief for not talking to him.  I would have totally come off as deranged.  I was able to tell myself, if I ever see him again, I'll say something but for that night, staying mum was the best thing I could have done.

This is what I saw when I looked in the mirror:

Yes, it says, "Love Hurts"

Lessons to be learned:
1)  ALWAYS be ready to meet someone.
2)  This shirt should be burned so I'm never tempted again
3)  Shopping can no longer be put off