On the Six

Ok, so this story doesn't actually take place on the 6 train, but that's the title of a J-Lo album, and therefore it's funny, because everything that has to do with J-Lo is funny. Even her freak multiples. This was a different train, but that's not that important.

It was a crowded, rush-hour train. We commented on its crowded-ness when we got on.

I hate couples that stare into one another's eyes, mooning all over each other like a pair of lovesick fools (though "lovesick" is one of my favorite words). I immensely dislike these people and think them not only puke-inducing, but rude (I'm not sure why).

This day on the train, I couldn't stop looking at you, right smack in the eyes. I was so gross, but so were you. Staring at each other like a pair of idiots. But I love you and couldn't help it.

We stood with the pole between us; that fucking pole was so in the way! I felt that the skinny little pole took up so much room. We hugged, then, tightly, with that pole in the middle of our hug. I hated that pole.

I kissed you quickly, on the lips, about four hundred times.

You whispered in my ear.

It was the best train ride of my life, and the purpose of this blog is to apologize to the people who had to witness our sickfest. But once I looked up at you, I didn't notice them at all.