Younger Female (20s)
Tiffany is on the subway with her best friend Chelsea. It's been a long, bad day at work and an expected date with her boyfriend is apparently not happening, much to Tiffany's chagrin. She tells Chelsea that what had started as the perfect romance with the fella of her dreams is slowly turning into a nightmare. Starting with the fact that she figured out that Rick's love of paying for meals with cash probably means he has a wife stashed somewhere.
How was I to know? It was so romantic at the start. Oh Chelse, you can never tell with men. They're like Russian dolls. The outer layer is always so promising. But when the second doll appears you start to think, "Haven't I seen this before?" Plus, it's shrinking.
So you open more and more dolls and they keep getting smaller and smaller until finally, finally you get to the last one. You're thinking, "God, let there be a ring in it!"
But the damn thing's glued shut.
The setting is a toll booth at the Verona exit of the New York interstate. Automation hasn't yet hit the I-90 and Theresa sits in one, handing out toll tickets to cars about to merge on to the freeway. It's a balletic movement. Theresa is talking to a friend on a headset phone.
I gave him my number. He never called, but there are any number of reasons for that, some of them benign. Still, it's been a whole weekend, he's had time.
I'm not being foolish! He's a good catch. He's a regular. Every weekday, 5:10. Which means he works in Rome. He's got a briefcase on the seat beside him so he's got an office job though not President due to the fact he's driving a Camry. White shirt, like those religious guys but he's not - no cross or medal on his dash. Plus three times he's had a case of beer in the back seat. But it's only a 12, and it's Lite - so he's not an alcoholic.
Most days there's a hamburger carton in the backseat, not the healthiest choice but it also means no one is packing a lunch for him, like a wife. Anyway, there's no ring on his hand. Sometimes he's got a basketball in the back and that's a good sign. A hockey stick would suggest aggression. Man, another stopper, hold on.
(Leans forward, appears to listen.) The next rest stop is at Verona. The washrooms? Super clean. Use them all the time.
(Back to friend.) Canadians. They always ask 'about' the restrooms.
He's got a really sweet smile. He doesn't actually come to a complete stop but he always smiles when he takes the ticket and says thanks. Like I'm doing him a favour.
He's had my number seventy two hours. I wrote it on the back of a blank ticket. Maybe he decided not to call but actually stop and ask me out in person. Yeah, that's it.
In my dreams.