Shoulda Woulda Coulda

Take a chance and with it risk minor humiliation. If you don’t, you could end up regretting it.

So, I met this guy on the train home, two days before Christmas. Having fallen asleep against the window, I woke up as the conductor announced that the train would go no further than the next station. We weren’t even half way home.

The guy opposite me, who I’d (accidentally) kicked repeatedly with my Doc Martens because he was so tall, closed his book and asked me if I knew how long the journey from Ipswich to Norwich usually takes.

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He had piercing blue eyes, a long tangle of tight blond curls, and an earring. I liked him immediately. We began talking as we disembarked one train and made our way to another. The second train was packed, with room only to stand in the space between two carriages, and it didn’t move for a long time either. This would have bothered me if I had been alone, my book buried deep in my huge rucksack. Instead, I barely noticed. It’s not that I was mesmerised by his crooked smile (well, maybe a little), I was actually really enjoying talking with him. Moreover, he seemed to enjoy talking to me too.

We talked for the whole journey (which ended up being more than 2 hours), covering all kinds of topics. At first we chatted about jobs, university and living in London, moving through Fringe Theatre and finally arriving at a discussion of fandom and fan conventions. It was a varied, engaging conversation, and I was entirely engrossed; our moments of silence felt completely at-ease.

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At the beginning of my journey, I was excited at the prospect of seeing my family. By the time I arrived and climbed into the car next to my Father, I was excited by the person I had just met, and could barely keep my attention on my current conversation. I mentioned him at dinner with the family, at which point my Mother chided me for failing to ask him how he had got to where he was, career-wise.

The next day, I told my little brother (just seventeen, fashionista), who spurred on my interest and advised me to conduct a search. Initially, I refused. I wasn’t going to stalk him! But a night or two later, lying in bed, I looked (I knew his first name and the village his parents live in, and had a vague idea where he works). My search turned out nothing whatsoever. I was going to have to give up on this mad idea that I might have met my guy. Damn.

http://youtu.be/HSxJkKiHXbw?t=17s

Caption: I felt like the man in Disney’s Paperman, except second chances are far rarer in reality.

What kept hampering me was the fact I just hadn’t asked to see him again. I hadn’t asked for his contact details, nor had I given him mine. Why?

I’m not naturally a shy person. In fact, talking to him had made me feel more confident in myself. Deep down I had assumed he would ask for my phone number, and was taken aback when he didn’t. Instead, I avoided the possible awkwardness of being turned down, and didn’t ask the question I was burning to get the answer to. I only managed to summon initiative enough to ask his name once we were finally on the platform at Norwich.

What I am trying to say is, I missed a trick. I foolishly missed a chance, and now I regret it. I should have gone with my gut instinct, but I didn’t. As I write, I can’t help thinking of a moment in C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew:

Make your choice, adventurous Stranger,
Strike the bell and bide the danger,
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had.

By taking a chance, you risk the momentary ‘danger’ of feeling a fool. If you don’t risk it, you will end up wondering what you missed out on, and regret it.

If you want something, grab it with both hands before it passes beyond your reach.

Tags: advice C.S. Lewis chance encounters dating Disney's Paperman life lessons no regrets risk taking The Magician's Nephew

Categories: Love & Relationships Wise up!