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This one time... on the train...

So I was headed to a meeting downtown earlier this week and had one of the most random, scary, flattering, creepy, memorable experiences I've ever had on public transportation (okay, ever). I hopped on the train and fought my way through a standing-room-only crowd, rode all of two stops, then fought my way back through that standing-room-only crowd to exit the train. On my way out, as I looked down at my feet, the stairs, and the button you push to open the door, a piece of paper was shoved into my line of sight and a man's voice said, "Will you take this?" My first thought was, "Lovely. Some idiot just handed me his trash..." I never did look up and when I made it off the train en route to my destination and a garbage can, I glanced at the paper in my hand.

Turns out...not trash. No, not so much.

I've cropped his name and phone number (as though he'd stumble on this blog and feel violated? It just felt like the polite thing to do). So you know how women, in general, tend to over-process the minutia of their lives with their girlfriends and six hours later are still not tired of discussing just what exactly does "Goodbye. Have a good night..." mean?! Well, dear reader, you're an honorary girlfriend today. Leave the blog now if you're not interested in girl talk and pillow fights in your undies.

The immediate question, in my mind: Is this Crazy Scary or Sweetly Romantic?

The first observation to pop into my head: How sad that it can't immediately be Sweetly Romantic, that chivalry may actually be dead, and that I have to assume the worst of men to keep myself safe, etc.

The second observation to pop into my head: Is your first observation bogus? Why can't it be devoid of Crazy Scary?

Note to self: Google-411 pinpoints this man either living with his mother or girlfriend or sister or wife or at any rate, the listing is a woman's name about 15 miles from my neighborhood. Using the last name associated with the listing and the first name from the note returns no Google hits whatsoever. Dead end.

BTW: The language is a tad dramatic for my tastes, which in turns leads me to lean toward the Crazy Scary hypothesis.

Devil's advocate: There I go again. Why does it have to be insane for a man to use such flattering phrases as "one of the most beautiful women I have seen in my life..." My reaction is more a reflection of my own bias than a reflection of his intent. Why does someone saying "your heart shines through" have to be crazy? Why don't we all use flattering, compassionate language more often?

The fundamental dilemma: To call or not to call?

Regardless of the decision I end up making: Major props, kudos, and shiny gold stars for the mystery man who dared to step up and crawl out on that thin limb. Take note, man-children everywhere, take note.

Chinatown Friendship Gate | Philadelphia

Private Dancer