Some things are dumb luck. Last night I rode the subway a couple trains past my stop because there were hot girls still on the train, and I figured I’d get off where one of them did, or at least wait for an opportunity to step to them. When I got back on to ride home, there was a babe on the car I chose with what appeared to be a tatoo of a butterfly on one foot. Conversation starter, since I was deep in state from having seen so many smokin’ babes during this scorcher.
“Is that a butterlfy?” I pointed in a friendly voice that rose on the last word.
“It’s a dove, it’s from a Pablo Picasso painting,” hottie answered.
“Oh yeah. That’s his daughter’s name- Paloma means dove in Spanish.”
“I didn’t know that,” girlfiend said, “I saw the painting on a sign near my job, and I asked the artist to do it.”
“Where were you working then?”
“I still work there- Holy Cross Hospital. It’s supposed to be yellow, but the guy said it would look better like this,” she positioned her foot for a better look. “And I wanted the head facing me, but he said it would be better this way”. The dove’s head points toward the viewer. I pointed out that was the likely reason.
She went on, “I got this at a time after a guy broke up with me, and had acted like a jerk when I got pregnant. I ended up having a miscarriage. He acted like a total tool, very bad. I told myself I was gonna do three things I couldn’t have done if I was a single mother, move to California- which I always wanted to do since growing up watching ‘Saved by the Bell’ and ‘The Wonder Years’, write a novel, and get tattoos of the three places I had lived.”
I asked where she had lived, and the conversation turned when she learned I am a writer (I handed her a card). Her name’s Megan, medium brown hair and freckles. She poured out why she likes to write, and I asked more about the novel she has worked on for years- questions like how often does she update it. She told me what writers she’s into. We disagreed about The Sound And The Fury, and I passed my real subway stop again.
“I probably read it too young. What’s your phone number?”
She gave a little high pitched laugh, and told me as if the transition was the most natural in the world. That’s how you have to roll, things can’t sound thought out.
“You’re cool to talk to.” I said after she shared the digits.
“Likewise.” she said, and back to writers and good books. It was speed bonding at its eclectic best, and there were no pauses or sense of new acquaintance (except the curiosity). When she told me some of the others changes she’d been through after dude hurt her, I said “You were hurt from the breakup, and sad after the miscarriage.” She’s pensive (she writes and reads a lot) and caring (girl’s a nurse, for cryin’ out). One thing I’ve had done differently had I thought of it- when she asked what I do, I should have named a playful fictitious profession first (like “fox hunter”), or teased her about moving awful fast.
Speed bond with rapport, interesting conversation, sprinkled with a little teasing. Tats, jewerly, accessories or books make great ice breakers.
Live The Dream,
Lee “SmoothTalker” Coles
