#6 Subway with Suspender Guy and Flashy Dresser Lady
Worthing Flask 2021SUSPENDER GUY: She’s got a button nose. I’ve always been turned on by a button nose. Of course, I’ve been known to get attached to a hook nose or an upturned nose or even a nose with Miss Piggy-like wide nostrils. What can I say? I like noses.
FLASHY DRESSER: He wears braces. I like that word better than suspenders. I’ve always had a thing for braces. My father and his brothers all wore them, and they looked dignified and would hook their thumbs underneath and snap them. Sometimes they’d do it together when they got up from the dinner table on the count of three and they’d always pick me to count. His are really suspenders because they didn’t button onto his pants but are held by alligator clips. He also wears a belt. A real take-no-chances kind of man.
SUSPENDER GUY: Her button nose matches the buttons on her overcoat. I like that. I’m not sure I like her haircut though. Her severe bangs cut across her forehead hiding the tops of her eyebrows. I’d like to tell her to move those bangs up an inch or two and since her hair is very black and is cut on the sides down to her chin it’s the first thing most people would look at. I’m not most people, but I’d wait for our second date and say to her, “highlights.” That one word and she’d know I care.
FLASHY DRESSER: The subway will clear out at the next stop. I wonder if he’ll take a seat if he stays on or continues holding on to the pole. I’m betting pole. He’s got to be well over six feet and could use a little meat on those bones. I always feel safer dating tall men. If I had a chance to cook him my fabulous lasagna that would put a few pounds on him. Someone ought to tell him to lose those sideburns and trade them in for a mustache—it would make his mouth look stronger. After all, Elvis has left the building.
SUSPENDER GUY: Maybe she’ll sit down if she doesn’t get off at Astor Place. I’m in no hurry so I won’t get off either. But if she does, I’ll walk up to her and say excuse me, my name is Billy Styles, what’s yours? I’m a big talker when it’s in my mind. That’s for sure. The heat’s got her so she good, she’s staying. I’ll grab a seat across from her. Glad I wore my best corduroy sports coat today. She’s a real fashion plate. It’s the silk blue/green scarf with the green-eyed owl pin and the blue matching her earrings. I see the ridges on her cheeks. She must have had bad acne as a teen. I’ll bet she likes sushi. I’d like to take her out for dinner tonight.
FLASHY DRESSER: He keeps checking me out. Maybe I’ll change seats and just chat with him and see where it leads. I was supposed to get off at Astor Place and now we’re heading for Brooklyn. He’s scribbling in a notebook. I wonder if he’s drawing a picture of me. He wraps his whole hand around the pencil-like he’s choking it. They never taught that in penmanship class. The moment of truth is coming—we’re pulling to a stop and I’m going to move across the aisle and sit next to him.
SUSPENDER GUY: I’m going to cross over and talk to her. What’s the worst that could happen? Shoot! She’s standing, also probably ready to get off. I’ll get off too.
FLASHY DRESSER: Hey, are you following me?
SUSPENDER GUY: No, not at all, well, kind of. I wanted to meet you and say hello.
FLASHY DRESSER: Why didn’t you do it on the train?
SUSPENDER GUY: Well, the truth of the matter is I’m kind of shy, but I was just about to sit next to you when you got off.
FLASHY DRESSER: I stood up to walk over and sit next to you and start a conversation, but I got off because you stood up and I figured you were getting off.
SUSPENDER GUY: Would you like to go for sushi?
