Robyn’s Nest

I’ve tried to avoid the subject of dating on this blog, for fear of going off on one, but this is a happy (ish) tale and doesn’t involve me wanting to knife a guy in the head. See what I mean, it’s happening already!

Anyway, I was on a stinky train to London yesterday and was flicking through the pages of the freebie city papers that random guys fling into your hands when you walk past.

After the news about Britney, snow storms and Kentish Town being a burglary hotspot, I glanced at the little column where people leave anonymous messages for folk who’ve caught their eye, you know, in a romantic way. You were on the tube to Victoria at 7.15am wearing a pink jumper and I was too nervous to ask for your number. Drink? Ah, how lovely. I wonder if people ever respond? But I think it’s a cute way of breaking the ice. Dating is a nerve-wracking game and approaching someone for their phone number can have diabolical consequences.

So, while sat on the stinky train, reading about love, I was reminded of my fellow bridesmaid who managed to hook herself a date last week using this ‘orrible mode of transport. Heading for Manchester and wearing a Make Poverty History T’shirt - and being the nice, polite young girl she is - Alice offered to help an elderly lady with her bags and then fetched her a coffee as the train chugged into motion.

She’d spotted a guy in the corner of her eye but thought no more about it until she dismounted the train and as she trundled along the platform he slipped her his card with a little message on the back - I thought it was really sweet that you helped the old lady and I really like your T’shirt. Call me. Only turns out he’s a flippin’ doctor! Result!

So, thinking I could be sat on a love train, rather than a London Midland from Euston to Milton Keynes, I took a look around me. Drowning out the sound of the screaming child two carriages away I spotted a greasy looking guy reading Page 3 of The Sun, a little Chinese dude (I don’t do short men!) and a guy with a ponytail who was sucking his thumb. 

You were a grown man on a train sucking your thumb and I was thinking ’help, get me outta here!’