An Open Apology to the Woman Sitting Next to Me at the Red Light the Other Day:

I am truly sorry for staring; but like many people in this day and age, I like to know whom it is that I am pulling up next to. Being the sane person that I am, I usually just glance quickly to see whether or not my neighboring motorist is some sort of crazy person that I might have to defend myself against. On occasion, I have been known to take a quick peek every few seconds in an attempt to learn a little something about my peers in the driving community. I might try to guess what they do for a living or I may even take a stab at where they could be going. Sometimes I even attempt to read a person’s lips so that I can learn what song they are listening to. On the rarest of occasions, a person is so unique that a prolonged stare is required. In your case, I am embarrassed to admit that I temporarily lost control of all motor skills and could do nothing but gaze helplessly into your passenger window throughout the duration of the light and for several more seconds after the green signal presented itself. For this I am truly sorry.

I can assure you that I came into your presence with the most harmless of intentions – I was merely trying to get from one job to the next when your blue-grey Toyota came into my life. To be honest, I was barely even awake. The fact that you were a hot chick with your index finger plunged, in its entirety, up your left nostril did not get us off on to a good start. I watched in awe as you bobbed your head, nose, finger, hand, forearm, elbow, biceps and shoulder enthusiastically to the unmistakable sound of Harvey Danger.

I smiled and thought to myself, “Now that’s confidence.” Any person that could be so indifferent to the opinions of other people that they are able to happily rock out with their hand up their nose is the kind of person that I want to hang out with. Despite the fact that I have been happily married for four years, I began to wonder if such a beautiful and confident young woman could possibly be single and available.

It was as though you were reading my mind. Just as I finished the thought, you detached your finger from your nose and held up your hand to admire your newly acquired treasure. Your fair and delicate fingers fanned out to reveal a ringless ring finger. I then experienced an emotion that I had never felt before – complete and total disgust accompanied with utter delight. You were single…and gross. I immediately began to think of a way to initiate conversation:

“So…uh, you going to work?” Nope.

“What kind of gas mileage does that thing get?” Doesn’t exactly scream romance, does it?

“Hey! Did you pick out a good one?” Nah, too fourth grade.

Sadly, I decided that there is no pick-up line tailored to a hot girl sitting in the lane next to you waiting for the light to change with her hand up her nose.

It was about the time that you leaned forward to wipe your finger on the cloth interior of your Toyota that you caught me staring…a big chubby guy who hadn’t been to Supercuts in so long that that his curly hair was starting to resemble that of the fat Ronald McDonald with his eyes wide and a goofy smile. In retrospect, I can understand why you gasped, grabbed the steering wheel at ten and two and stared straight ahead. I probably would have done the same thing when faced with the same set of circumstances – even though if I were in your place, I wouldn’t have been feverishly prospecting for mucus.

Images of my wife and kids shamed me back into reality as the light changed and freed you from my stare. While you sped off into the sunrise, I took one last look at your taillights and wondered what might have been had we met at some other time and place – in some other life.

I shook my head in humiliation as I took the on-ramp and merged onto the interstate, never to see you again. I am totally sorry that I creeped you out, hot nose picking lady in the blue-grey Toyota, but I will never forget the time we spent together.

Love,

JRM