Excuse me. This is for you.

Nearly two years ago, I got cruised on the PATH train.

(You know, I had a general idea of when this incident had happened, and I knew I’d blogged about it, so all I had to do just now was search my monthly archives from around that time and do a search on the word “cruised.” First I checked April 2001; then I checked May, and there it was. Isn’t blogging the coolest?)

Anyway. So. On May 29, 2001, I got cruised on the PATH train.

Then, one cold night about three months ago, I was exiting the PATH station after returning from the city, and I saw him again. He must have been ahead of me in the crowd getting off the train, because he was standing there now, across the street, in front of a restaurant, staring at me, with a hint of a grin on his face. I looked at him for a moment — he looked familiar, and then I remembered who he was. But I was too nervous to say anything. So I continued walking. Then I saw him walk down a different street, so I turned back and began following him, but he was walking too fast for me to catch up. So I lost my nerve and went back to my original route.

I saw him again tonight.

I was standing at the 23rd Street PATH station, waiting for the train to whisk me back home. A man walked past me, slowly. I looked up, and I recognized him. He was sort of looking at me, so I knew it was him. He had a beard now. Neither of us said anything. I pretended not to see him, but I could feel him looking at me. So I glanced over at him, and our eyes met for a split second.

Then I looked down at my feet and tried to suppress a grin — without success.

I looked over at him again, smiled and nodded. He returned the smile and the nod.

I thought of going up to him and saying hi, but it was very quiet on the platform, and I was conscious of other people hearing us.

The train came, and he got on first. He took an empty seat. There was an available seat directly across from him (the PATH cars are set up like NYC subway cars), but I didn’t want to sit there, because I knew we’d play eye tag for at least 10 minutes, and the thought of doing so made me nervous.

Instead, I sat in a different part of the car so I couldn’t see him.

But I’d already resolved that once we got off the train, I’d say hi, maybe chat with him for a few minutes, and give him my phone number.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, the train approached our stop.

I saw him stand up and glance over at me. And then… I realized he was talking to some other guy.

A friend or something.

Dammit!

Clearly they were going to get off the train together. How was I supposed to make my move?

So I opened my bag. I took out a pen and a scrap of paper. I wrote down my name and my phone number. I’d just slip him the piece of paper once we got off the train. Yes. Excuse me, this is for you, I’d say, with a flirty grin on my face.

The train arrived at our stop. The doors opened. They got off. They were ahead of me going up the stairs. I was a mere five feet behind them.

And I said nothing.

They walked to the top of the steps and out into the cool night air, and they continued to walk away, lost in chatter.

Five feet in front of me.

And I said nothing.

I crossed the intersection to follow the route back to my apartment.

I tossed the scrap of paper into a trashcan.

Excuse me. This is for you.

Dammit.