Is it me, or is the 3 the most depressing train on Earth?

So, I’m heading to the Financial District this morning. I’m waiting at the Park Place platform and I see the second most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

At least, that was my initial thought.

Upon a second glance, I saw her face was sort of squished, though she had inviting, blue eyes and a fair figure. Neither straight as a yardstick nor round as a pumpkin, but somewhere comfortably in between. Furthermore, her hair was a streak of brown with blonde highlights and she couldn’t have been taller than 5’7”. Still, there was something about her, I just couldn’t put my finger on it (that could be construed as inappropriate).

The train arrived and we both boarded separate cars. The Number 3 train and I have a strange relationship. Every time I board the train, I feel like I’m on the same car. It always smells like a homeless toilet, there’s graffiti everywhere and there’s always at least 2 unsavory characters on opposite ends of the car. This morning was no exception.

Even with all this on my mind, I wondered, why I was so attracted to this woman (we’ll call her Platform Lady)? Physically, she wasn’t really my type (I have what some have called, lofty standards for a man of my stature) and I wasn’t under the influence of the drink. What could it be?

As the smell of hobo piss wafted to my nose, it dawned on me. It was her clothes or, more specifically, her sense of style.

She was wearing a black suit jacket, a hot pink blouse, a black skirt and black heels with little pink ribbons (usually positively dreadful, but rather endearing this particular morning). She looked like a New Wave Business Woman. Was I attracted to the dichotomy of her ensemble? Could it be possible that I wasn’t at all attracted to Platform Lady at all, I just really dug her style? No, it wasn’t. I see this type of thing all the time at bars and it does nothing for me. Again, I’m usually attracted to classy dames, and this outfit was not classy per se.

I was left with one option…could it simply be the color coordination?

That must be it, though I’m not quite sure I understood it. You see, I really dislike the color pink. The main reason I like Sixteen Candles better than Pretty In Pink is because Sixteen Candles doesn’t have pink in the title. Yet, for some reason, I found myself coming to that inevitable conclusion; that which I loathe, I may also adore. Chilling.

I thought about different colors. Black and orange were the first that came to mind. However, whenever I see anyone wearing them together, I feel a snide Halloween comment is in order. A light blue and black? I start humming Blur’s Girls and Boys. Red and white? Periods. Hmm…Black and pink. How can I be so attracted to such a wonderfully chameleon-like color and such a horrid washed-out red?!

I’m sure it can come down to the duality of man and all that, but such a simple thing as a not so clever ensemble can make a man think about the nature of attraction. Again, chilling and oh so appropriate for the 3 train.

xoxo
Ian

Copyright 2006 Ian Gonzales