Underground portraits

So I was on the undeground the other day. Well, night it was, or early morning. I was very drunk, to be honest, having spent the evening enjoying the company of people quite unenjoyable when not unsober. In front of me there was this couple, middle-aged to say the least. They weren’t married, this was obvious by the way they sat next other, feigning intimacy, but deep down quite uncomfortable. Most probably they’d recently started dating, in a desperate attempt to get laid or to get hitched before forty, depending on the gender.

The train stopped and this girl got on, this tall blonde chick with too much make up and not enough clothes (for her own well-being I mean, it was freezing outside, and dressed like that, she was seriously at risk of catching pneumonia or something). She was definitely the kind of person who masticates gum like she’s trying to crush it out of existence, and who talks loudly on the phone in public areas, or who tells people their hair looks nice today.

 Anyway, she walked by and the guy just swivelled his head around to get a good long look at her backside. He was very crass about it too, he didn't bother being too discrete or anything. Of course, the girl he was with noticed it, aliens looking in from outer space with no understanding of our reproduction practices would’ve noticed it, but she didn’t say a thing. This sad, confused frown just crept its way across her face.

She wasn’t exactly breath-taking or anything, this girl, but she had a kind face and gentle eyes. She could do much better than him, at any rate. He had this very holier-than-thou air about him, like even if she had called him out, he’d have denied any wrong-doing and called her paranoid. He was a real asshole.

So what she did instead was, she placed her hand on his knee, and just let it rest there. Of course, he pretended not to notice. So, she whispered something in his ear, about how she’d had a great night or something, and she lay her head on his shoulder. And at that he finally turned to her, like he'd just now noticed she was here. He had this real idiotic quizzical look on his face. She smiled at him, much too kindly, and after a while he gave her a kiss, real perfunctory, like he was doing her a huge favour, like he was a real swell guy for acknowledging the intimate nature of their relation. Anyway they got off at the next station, and probably ended up having miserable sex or something. I really hope he got erectile dysfunction, and that she dumped him, but I doubt it. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would dump a guy just because he couldn’t get it up.

So anyway this other couple walked in, and they hung around the metal stanchion in the middle of the mostly empty carriage. They looked young and handsome, almost too much so, like they’d walked out of a movie set. She leaned against the stanchion, in this real charming kind of way. She had this mysterious 1960’s Monica Vitti vibe about her; she was the kind of girl you fall in love with far too easily. He was trying to act confident you know, real suave and entertaining, but it was painfully obvious he was terrified, despite all the shots he’d had at the fancy party they were coming from. She found it all quite endearing, but she was getting impatient. She wanted him to kiss her already, she’d probably been waiting all night. So she smiled at him every now and then, to give him confidence.

 He was slowly working up the courage, swaying back and forth with the moving train, closing in on her, and then backing away, like some kind of tipsy ballerina. Suddenly, with infinite care, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She lit up at that, and looked at him expectantly. Just as he was leaning in, the train slowed down abruptly, and he lost his balance and almost toppled her over. He immediately began apologising, blushing furiously, but she just burst out laughing, this delightful, childish laugh. I realised this was my stop. I got off, smiling, and silently wishing them all the best.