C'est la vie - A Collection

Mr. Perfect

So, I almost, and I mean almost, had a random stranger's number in my phone this morning. This guy, let's call him Mr. Perfect, was a rare combo of handsome and cute (that's a unicorn...that's a unicorn!). And on top of that, he seemed to be genuinely caring (dammit#1).

We found ourselves in the back row of one of those big AC buses, my friend squished by the window, me in the middle, and Mr. Perfect right next to me. You see, in these expressway buses on our little island, there are only 37 seats, but somehow they manage to cram in around 45 passengers (yeah, those unlucky folks pay a hefty sum just to stand in the middle of the aisle).

At the entrance of the expressway where security does a brief check on your vehicle, the bus conductor does this magical shuffle, tossing people into any available space (What space? There's none, but he makes everybody seated somehow till the checkpoint and traffic guards are out of sight. The talent!) to dodge those pesky expressway law violations. And guess where most of those folks end up? The back! The back of the (goddamn) bus.

So there we were, the proud occupants of the luxury back-row seat, literally clinging to each other (picture my friend flattened against the window, me half on top of her, and Mr. Perfect on top of me, trying his best to make it less awkward - bless his soul ) as the conductor made temporary seating for another stranger next to Mr. Perfect.

In an attempt to break the ice and size down the awkwardness, he cracked a joke, and boy, did it work. We were face to face, laughing together, and that's when I really saw how beautiful he was. Oh boy, that smile could light up the darkest night (dammit #2). Did I mention he's caring? (Yeah, I might have mentioned that, but it's worth repeating). It's only when he moved back to the unshared luxury of his seat that I realized our torture was over. (And that I had been mindlessly gawking at his pretty face).

Initially, we both tried to maintain some semblance of personal space (which, by the way, was about as vast as a postage stamp given our circumstances). But at some point, we both mutually (unspoken, but it worked) decided to give up on it. I mean, come on, we were draped in thick clothing and all, so a little touch here and there hardly made a difference.

And did I mention he's funny (I probably didn't say that before, now did I?). At one point, he realized he'd been perched on a seat belt buckle the whole time, and oh, he gingerly announced it to me. (He's been twerking like a worm in halves for some time, I noticed. Apparently the belt buckle has hurt his bubble butt. *Cue more laughter).

Now, the pièce de résistance: my epic "getting off the bus" in front of him. You see, these back-row seats are kinda elevated (for god knows what reasons), so I half-jumped, half-crawled over him to get down to the lower level and get off the bus as we were getting near to our stop. (Later, I learned that my friend had pulled an even better stunt by kneeling on the elevated compartment floor, to which he had almost audibly laughed). However, after performing all those acrobatics, we successfully missed our stop and had to get off at the next one (*Insert facepalm emoji).

The last thing I saw before leaving the bus was Mr. Perfect giving me that 'dad smile' - you know, the one that says, 'Good gracious, these two are the clumsiest people on the planet; someone get them bubble-wrapped before they hurt themselves.' Humiliating, but hey, that 'dad smile' is pretty darn attractive.

Now, I'm stuck here lamenting the fact that I'll probably never see him again (Oh, the cruel hand of fate *Insert ten crying emojis).

A/N: Based on a true story 😂