While I was walking home on Tuesday, my headphones sending the cool bouncing rock riffs of Coheed & Cambria to my eardrums, I noticed a girl out of the corner of my eye to my left looking at me.
So I kept walking and she did it again this time catching me in the glance. She smiled.
I went back to my music and my walking and then noticed she looked at me again at which point I looked at her, took my headphones off, and heard "why are you looking at me funny?"
"I'm not looking at you funny," I replied. "You're looking at me funny."
And then we got to talking. The long strands of black curly hair came down over her face. Sexy but tired: the aftermath of a long day at work.
"Are you my neighbour?" she asked.
"I don't know. Am I your neighbour?" I asked in return.
"I think you are," she said calmly. I wasn't it turns out but that didn't stop us from talking. At one point she was curious as to what I was listening to so I put my headphones on her while the hard sounds of a high pitched man wailed into her ears.
"He's singing 'atreyu'," she said. I honestly had no idea what I was listening to at that point and usually have no idea most of the time.
The girl with black hair and an amazing smile also had a thick accent. I asked her where she was from and got an "Ausssstreeliiaa" though I doubt her accent placed her from here. She sounded Israeli to me.
So we talked for a couple of minutes. It's odd that: talking to someone you've accidentally met through a glance.
She was telling me about what she did: face painting for rich and sometimes mean kids. It sounds like the kids were probably spoiled brats.
And then the conversation got personal. Her husband and how he slept around. I asked how old she was and got 22 as an answer. Twenty-two and married. Twenty-two and married in an otherwise problematic marriage. Twenty-two is too young for marriage. It doesn't surprise me that there'd be problems.
I tried to console her as she starting feeling sorry for herself. It's her husband's loss as this girl seemed great.
We parted at the petrol station. She was going to get cigarettes and I was going home. She said "nice meeting you" as she digressed towards the drug that would kill another part of her.
I don't know who she was but she seemed sweet and was quite pretty. I got part of a name and I got the vicinity of where she lived but I still haven't the faintest idea who she is.
Should I have done something different? Should I have asked for a phone number (or would that have created more problems than it's worth)?
Things like this I have no idea about. I'm pretty much convinced that I was born without the ability to tell on matters like this. I can't figure out if & when people are flirting which makes The Bondi Road Pick-Up Bar rather complicated for a little freak like me.
An instruction manual would be nice.