There was a Calvin Klein-model of a man sitting opposite me on the train this morning, who was so gorgeous that I actually resorted to taking small, shallow breaths so as not to disturb the beauty. All I could think the entire duration of the train journey was “Do something attractive! Quickly!” but what is that exactly? Arch my back and purr? Obviously I am a professional but even I was out of my league with this Adonis.
I just feel that people this attractive should not exist in the everyday real world of my life because it’s just not fair! They should stick to being models or actors where I can just lust after them from afar and have fictitious conversations with them in my head with never the possibility for rejection.
How can you just appear on a Friday morning train ride, wearing a suit and looking wonderful, while I am looking average at best? He probably caught me subtly stealing glancing (read: craning my neck to near neck paralysis) and ardently admiring him but at this stage really it’s go big or go home! I mean, how often am I presented with such a paragon of perfection?
To be honest, it’s actually kind of frightening that I can go from a cursory glance, to finding someone attractive, to a full blown obsession in one fell swoop. (I have already picked out all our children’s names.) You know I am going to end up being one of those people on the news that breaks into a celebrity’s house while they’re out and then when they come home they find me sleeping in their bed…
Have you ever seen a stranger so attractive that you immediately start to question all your life choices?
You go through a Taylor Swift-style range of emotions all in the time frame of about 30 seconds.
They’re so beautiful that first you start to wonder if the earth could even sustain something of such beauty or if maybe you will just implode from being in the presence of this level of splendour. Then you remember that you seriously contemplated not even wearing pants today so you know you’re obviously looking about as attractive as overcooked porridge.
Then you wonder what led you to leave the house looking like a derelict in the first place and you feel shame, followed by indignant rage at your past self for making this poorly thought out decision.
(Past Anamaria you are such a cow. *shakes fist angrily at the sky*)
Next you feel pity for your present self for being in this mess and finally sadness for your future lonely self.
Finally you realise the inevitable that this perfect stranger will never love you… And it fills you with incomparable despair.
Do you want to know the worst part of it all?
That you don’t know which is sadder – that you don’t even know this person yet they were able to send you into a devastating tailspin without even uttering a single word to you, or that you literally just made up this entire thing in your pathetic, warped little mind.
Yes you do.
You know which is sadder.