The subway - like a singles cruise, only much, much cheaper

Name: The subway
What it is: The underground railroad connecting the boroughs of New York City
Cost: $2 per ride
Random fact: About 40% of New York’s subway system actually runs above ground.
The scoop: On Craig’s List (http://www.craigslist.org) a few years back, I remember several posts trying to declare a certain subway car as the “singles car.” If you were single and interested in meeting someone, no matter what line of the subway it was, you were supposed to get into that car, and presumably make eye contact, start talking, and let things unfold as they may. Unfortunately, I can’t for the life of me remember whether it was the first car or the last car. Anyone recall?

In any event, I don’t think it ever really took off, maybe partly because distractions like iPods and cell phones (which do work on the above-ground subway cars) have only proliferated since then. It’s too bad, though. When you think about it, the subway really is one of the more risk-free ways to meet someone. Consider: it only costs $2, there’s always a stop to get off at if things go downhill, and if it doesn’t work out, at least you went somewhere in the process, even if only from one point in Brooklyn to another. Over the past several years, I have read not one but THREE stories in the New York Times about couples who ended up getting married after meeting on the subway. It can work! (Though not, in my experience, during rush hour.)

My dates: Over the past six years, I’ve met four guys on the subway. The first must have been back in 2001 or 2002, when I had infinitely less dating experience than I do now. I’ll call him the Free Spirit, because it was his feet I noticed first – he was barefoot. I mean, he had sandals, but his feet were out and sort of resting on top of them. I’m not going to lie to you – the man had beautiful feet. When I finally tore my eyes away and looked up, I noticed his head was cute, too, with light brown skin and beautifully curly hair. But he wasn’t making eye contact, so I went back to the newspaper I was reading.

When I was a few stops from home, though, the Free Spirit suddenly said something to me, and we started chatting. We were both nervous – maybe he’d never tried to meet someone on the subway before, either? -- so the conversation was awkward. I can’t remember a thing we talked about, actually, but between his cuteness and his beautiful feet, I was happy just to gaze at him.

We got off at the same stop, 74th Street/Roosevelt Ave in Jackson Heights. I was changing trains to go home, and the Free Spirit was walking home from there. We said good-night reluctantly, and as he walked up the stairs, he turned around and smiled at me. I smiled back. Alas, I never saw him again.

I met the second guy a year or so later, so I was more prepared this time. I’ll call him Cushy Job, because he had one and I was jealous. When we met I was actually on my way home from a date with a guy I’d met at a club, who had turned out to be pretty annoying. But I looked better than usual because I’d taken some time to dress up. I was reading a book, and Cushy Job struck up a conversation with me about it. I was so excited about talking to a guy who seemed to be a reader, he may have thought I was more interested than he actually was. Still, he was cute, with a great accent (he had grown up in Haiti), and he had the aforementioned cushy job pushing papers at the New York City Board of Education. I told him I was an unemployed former teacher looking for a job related to education but not teaching, and when he asked me out for breakfast, I accepted.

Unfortunately, the breakfast only confirmed how little we had in common. I’m not a morning person under the best of circumstances, and during my unemployed year – well, let’s just say that my being conscious before 10:30 AM was becoming an increasing rarity, so I don’t know what I was thinking agreeing to meet this guy for breakfast at 9 AM on Saturday. He had been up since 6 AM, doing tai chi or some other sinfully healthy exercise in Central Park, and as he went on and on about it I could barely keep my eyes open. I did give him my résumé (maybe not the smartest thing to give a random stranger from the subway, seeing as it had all my personal information, including my address – what was I thinking!?). He said he’d help me get a Board of Ed job. But of course we parted and I never heard from him again. Oh well. At least he didn’t stalk me.

I actually became friends with the third guy I met on the subway, so we’ll call him Guy Who Is Now a Friend (GWINAF). A friend and I were going home after a night of dancing at Webster Hall, and she noticed GWINAF sitting on a bench on the subway platform, writing in a journal. She struck up a conversation with him about what he was writing, and we all got on the train together. We were chatting away when he moved his hand and I noticed he had the ink mark you get at Webster Hall. “Wait – you were at Webster Hall, too?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is that where you two were?”

“Yeah. But what did you do with your journal while you were dancing?” I asked.

“Oh, I just left it behind a speaker,” he said.

I was astonished. I keep a journal and would never dream of leaving it in a public place like that. (But I’ll give a perfect stranger my résumé with my address on it. Ha!)

It turned out GWINAF lived in Queens, too, so as we were nearing home, he asked if we wanted to keep talking some more. The three of us ended up going to the Georgia Diner in Elmhurst, eating and talking until 6 AM, about numbers, and New York City, and his dreams of acting and singing. It was a fun, random night.

I met the fourth guy, who I’ll call Too Old For Me, as I waited for a subway in Brooklyn a little over a year ago. Too Old For Me had to have been 60 years old – he had gray hair, and children who were grown – and he told me all about how he’d moved here from Russia ten years earlier. “I am a painter, an artist,” Too Old For Me said. “I would love to be painting you.” He told me how beautiful I was, how it made no sense that I was single, all these great lines – too bad he was old enough to be my father!! Before I got off the train he asked for my phone number. I didn’t have the heart to reject him right then and there, so I said, “Why don’t you give me yours?” He wrote it down for me, but I never called him.

So, looking back, I guess I’ve only gotten one actual “date” from the subway. Maybe I should keep my eyes open on the ride home tonight....