It was a Friday night eight years ago when I met him on the 6 train.
It’s no exaggeration when I say it was the ride of my life.
Just before that serendipitous meeting at Grand Central station, I had become disillusioned with dating and was being too nice to men. So I decided to pull a George Costanza on my love life.
I am a diehard Seinfeld fan and have been watching and quoting it since my early teens. In one episode, George (who has a knack for failing at life) decides that, from then on, he will do the opposite of what he’s always done. Because, he reasons, if “life is the complete opposite of what I want it to be, every instinct I have, in every aspect of life — be it something to wear, something to eat — it’s all been wrong.” If my love life was not what I wanted it to be, something had to be wrong.
So I decided: no more nice girl, no more pleasantries. I was high on power!
Cue the first ‘victim’ of my social experiment. I was leaving the station when a guy with long hair, a beanie, and wearing skater clothes asked me: “How’s your night been?” He kept going. “We were in the same car and you seemed nice, so I wanted to say hi and ask how your night was?”
I responded: “Is that the best you could do?”
Some men might have been taken aback by such a retort, but not this one. He kept walking next to me, emphasising that he wasn’t following me, he just happened to live in the same direction.
I was bored and, admittedly, a bit lonely. So we went for a drink, me still doing my Costanza experiment — no filter, outrageous things spewing from my mouth.
I was liberated, he was bemused. The bar closed and we smoked hand-rolled cigarettes on a side street, before exchanging numbers.
Long story short: We got married in 2018 and are madly in love.
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