A few days ago I was walking back to work from my lunch break. I was on 53rd Street, almost to work, listening to my ipod, engrossed in my own little world, when I realized someone was talking to me. I took out one earphone and heard the guy say, "Are you French?"
Now, this is New York, the city where anything at all can happen. It's not common for strangers to talk to you on the street, but neither is it uncommon. Every day, walking around anywhere at all in this city, you encounter thousands of people. Anything and everything happens. I'm beginning to not be surprised by any of it. So I looked at the guy and said, "No, of course not." He smiled at me and told me that he meant it as a compliment. "I'm half French," he said, "which is why I talk to strangers on the street..." Suddenly, I was at work, and dashed in, but not before he held out his hand and introduced himself.
Chalking it up to another crazy New York experience, I didn't think much about it until yesterday when I was eating my lunch outside somewhere near work. I happened to look up just as a man was walking by and our eyes met. "Hello!" he said. "I know you! Do you remember me?" Surprised that I did, I said, "You're the guy who thought I was French." He sat down next to me and we commenced to have a very pleasant conversation. Turns out he works near me, and was on his lunch break too. When I had to go back to work he suggested we meet for lunch the next day, and I agreed. So we did.
Guys probably don't realize it, but whenever a girl meets a boy, her future immediately flashes before her eyes, starring him in the role of boyfriend, fiance, husband, etc. It's impossible for a girl not to envision these things, no matter how hard she tries, or how ridiculous it is. So of course I was thinking today that if anything were to somehow maybe miraculously come of this chance meeting on a summer afternoon in New York City, it might be a cute and romantic story to tell the grandkids someday. If not, well, it's still a cute story at least.