Hey, You!

Delayed Romance

You and I were on the same twice-delayed flight to Long Beach. When we finally got on the plane, I saw you looking at me from your seat and I felt all blushy up and down. You were a cute, plugs-in-ears, alternative guy, the kind of guy my boyfriend is not but who I just as easily could have ended up with. When we landed, I got on the shuttle to the remote parking, and you happened to be sitting next to me. You struck up a conversation with me and made me feel like a single girl again; you had an amazing smile. It turns out you work only a couple of blocks from my house. You don't know my name. You don't know my address. You don't know I have a boyfriend I am completely devoted to. Still, for that moment you made me feel—if you'll excuse the corny turn of phrase—like a natural woman. For what it's worth, if I was single, I would have asked for your number.

Illustration by Bob Aul
Illustration by Bob Aul

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at letters@ocweekly.com.

 
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