Meeting Jack


As I was psyching myself up to approach the grunge rock hero of my halls of residence, he beat me to it.  I was waiting for a tube at Mile End Station, staring down the tunnel hoping for a train.  I didn’t actually notice him until I had sat in the carriage and he sat opposite me.

‘Oh my God’ said the voice in my head, ‘That’s him.  You have to talk to him.’

Of course, I couldn’t think of a thing to say.  My throat constricted and my heart was pounding.  Fate solved the dilemma for me, when the train was delayed at Leytonstone.  Jack started up a conversation with a worldly wise comment on public transport and I pretended I’d taken the tube enough to comment back.  We talked all the way back to halls.  I discovered he was from Yorkshire which was a big bonus because it meant he was a Northerner too.  I was impressed because he was a third year student who was doing his finals that year and already knew his way round London.

We hung out as friends for a week.  I went round to his room for cups of Nescafe Blend 37 after lectures and listened to records.  We talked as people do when they are getting to know one another and after a while, I started to think,

‘I wish Jack would kiss me.’

And, luckily, not long after, he did.

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