Never at the Same Train Stop

Riding on the "L" from Evanston, way up on the northside and at the end of the Purple Line, (For non-Chicagoans, it's about as far away from my house as you can get.) my hip is throbbing from my second round with circus class and my head is spinning from therapy. As I get closer to the southside I can feel some of the tension leaking away and I know that soon I will be home; I can put ice on my ass and stomp around in frustration. (Well, limp around animatedly in frustration, anyway.) I'm sunk into my hoodie and pretending I'm the only one on the train when a gaggle of teenage girls sit in my vicinity. I keep my eyes averted but tune my ears in, prepared to be irritated/entertained by their conversation.
Their voices take on the important edge of people who are convinced they should be listened to, and lets face it, who doesn't love hearing teenagers fling their hormones at each other? One girl in particular stands out to me because she's wearing a striped beanie and is still awkward in her height and bearing. She is absolutely adorable, and obviously a lesbian. She talks quite candidly about being frustrated with her girlfriend, and needing to buy jeans that aren't baggy because it's time she grew-up and started wearing clothes that fit. The friend next to her, obviously straight and a fashion guru, agreed wholeheartedly and proceeded to give the girl advice, opening up her friend's vulnerable comments to general assembly. I almost stand up on my bad hip and start contradicting the guru, but I hold my tongue. The girl that perked my ears just recently turned eighteen and reminds me of a colt who hadn't found her legs yet. Like I said, totally adorable. The guru left her a few stops before Midway, and I, of course, find myself staring at the colt for the rest of the way down the Orange Line as her friends slowly trickle away. I want to talk to her and tell that she is cute exactly the way she is, that she needs some self-confidence, that I would totally go out with her if I wasn't, you know, dating my boyfriend, and that her jeans are fucking fine the way they are.
I hold my tongue again and then the train stops for Midway. Her long legs (really long) eat up the stairs and soon she is gone. I limp my way slowly outside, hip throbbing and getting frustrated again. Then I see her standing outside waiting for a bus. I walk by her, heading towards my house, but I stop myself. Why the hell not? What were the odds we'd see each other again? Chicago is a HUGE city.
I walk back to her and say, "So, I'm in a relationship, but if I wasn't I would definitely ask for your number because I think you are completely adorable." She smiles at me, and right then, it was totally worth limping back the 50 feet. She said, "Right back at ya. And I really like your tattoo," gesturing to the paw print on my wrist. I get a little flustered, say something silly and limp away.

*

6 weeks later...

Joe, Veronica and I were at the Salvation Army looking for pieces for our Halloween costumes. We had split up, I had a skirt in hand and was debating some choices in the sweater section when Joe came up to me and said, "There is a very unattractive lesbian couple making out in the checkout line." Me, being me, said, "Dude, I wanna see!" We walked over and it took me a second to register who I was seeing. And there she was, my cute and awkward friend from the train. My heart sped up a little bit and I kicked myself. Why oh why did I think I would never see her again? She was A LOT taller than I remember, but she still had on her baggy jeans and striped hat. I smiled. At a first glance it would be hard to tell if she was a girl at all. Her girlfriend was short and rockin' the oh-so-popular emo bangs and lip piercing. I looked a Joe, my face heated, and said, "You remember that girl I told you about? That's her. The tall one." He looks again and made a non-committal noise. "Well, I still think she's cute." I walked back and continued my clothing hunt. When I finished, I walked around looking for Veronica and spotted her at the checkout line. I also saw my buddy hanging out near the front entrance with her girlfriend. I looked from Veronica, to the girl, to Veronica. Veronica looked from me, to the girl, back to me. She said, "What? I know her. I went to high school with her." I blinked, swallowed and asked, "What are you talking about?" Veronica responded, "The tall girl with the striped hat? I've known her for like five years." Evidently Veronica was confused as to why I was staring avidly at her friend, who she had just finished catching up with, having not seen her in a while. Veronica hadn't expected to run into her after so long in a thrift store on the southside. I certainly had not expected to run into her EVER AGAIN, and have her end up being a friend of my friend.

Hooo boy.

I started laughing and said, "Yeah, about that..."

My ears turned red and I told her how I had actually made a pass at her friend at the train station weeks before. Veronica, in turn, told me that she used to hang out with said lanky lovely; they had once dated the same guy before she figured out she didn't, in fact, like boys; all the while giggling hysterically at me. We left the Salvation Army and filled Joe in on the serendipity. He, of course, thought it was the best thing he'd ever heard, but was very proud that I had tried to snag a girl who was barely eighteen.

*

Chicago is not actually a huge city. It's a huge city made up of very tiny worlds. That, and it's not a good idea to hit on someone who gets off at the same train stop as you. Go figure.