You know, it’s always funny how things that matter so much to you at the time usually end up not mattering so much in the end. In a way it’s comforting. You hated sauerkraut and Spanish olives as a kid, and now you can’t get enough of them. That short story you read over and over again when you were fourteen seems remarkably un-profound now. You end up dating those nerdy boys that you and your friends made fun of in the late hours over lukewarm Pabst.

 

The bus I had hoped to catch happened to be arriving just as I walked up to the stop. I cannot tell you how much I love when this happens. 13 other people and I were catching this bus, so I had to squeeze my way through to grab a seat in the back. Nothing felt suiting on my ipod for the weather. It was too sunny outside for the depressing steel guitar music I usually listen to. Then all of a sudden it came to me. The Kinks! Of course, their always appropriate sing-song nature is perfect for this bus ride.  There was a good-looking curly haired boy standing near the back door with one of those hip messenger bags that bike riders wear, slung across his back. But we were on the bus of course. We kept exchanging stoic glances. I noticed some black tattooed objects on his wrist peaking out from his jacket sleeve every time he repositioned his grip. This was all I needed to be mildly in love with him.

 

I realized my stop was next so I gave the cord a tug and got up to prepare myself to get off. I clumsily tried to hold on but started sliding forward across the bus’ floor instead. The attractive stranger was suddenly very close to me, his arms extended forward saying “here” trying to help me brace myself. I was surprised at his kindness.

 

This moment suddenly felt very silly and gratifying. Because really it always a surreal feeling when someone you admired from afar turns out to be everything you imagined and more. They look at you with straight-toothed smiles and just the right amount of facial hair and say something perfect like, “Here, hold on to me… I will like you regardless of your awkwardly long pants and underwhelming looks. You see, I have x-ray vision and inside your bag I can see your impeccable taste in literature, your Polaroid camera, and octopus keychain. I too, am a fan of cephalopods.” This is great, I will say. You have ruined everything, just like Jeff Goldblum.

 

And suddenly I am smiling too much and holding his arms too tight. But he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s a space far too intimate for strangers. I hear the hydraulic sounds of the bus doors opening and I hop out, making sure to turn around one more time and smile. I hope he mistakes good teeth for beauty. I am giddy and light-footed despite my betrayal. I am wishing my cigarettes weren’t in my other jacket. I am snapping a picture of my face with a glaring background of sunshine and encroaching clouds. I lovehow Polaroids allow you to reminisce immediately. There is nothing better.

 

The sun feels too good on my eyelids and my apartment comes sooner that I want it too. As I’m unlocking the front gate I see somebody’s discarded yarmulke lying on the sidewalk in strange juxtaposition to wads of chewed gum. It was then I realized that I had no principles and that this moment will probably not seem as amazing tomorrow.