Honestly, I’d quite like to be able to read other people’s minds. I always think it’d be interesting to know what people are thinking as they walk past you on the street. Is that young lad thinking about Star Wars? Why does that guy have ‘I’ve Got A Lovely Bunch Of Coconuts’ stuck in his head? Has that elderly woman just read a filthy erotica and is currently imagining her own Christian Grey?
Which brings me to the reason I asked this question.
Today, I had an exam. It was a sociology exam, and I’m pretty sure it fried my brain, so I thought I’d treat myself by picking up another box of hair dye – the brown I’d originally been aiming for last week turned out red – and a soft pretzel. I thought, ‘I did pretty well on that exam, and I’ve got enough Pretzel Points for a free pretzel. I’ll treat myself.’
Cut to me walking to the bus station to catch a bus home, happily devouring the soft pretzel I’d just gotten for free. The thing about soft pretzels, is that they’re absolutely covered in salt. So covered, that no matter how careful you are, it will get stuck to your fingers. To remedy this, I did the only logical thing to do in that situation.
I put my finger in my mouth, and I sucked the salt off of my finger. Standard situation, right? Everyone does it. Well, not everyone experiences it in this way, I can guarantee.
Just as I’d put my finger in my mouth, the opening ‘Yeah’s of Pony by Ginuwine filtered through my earbuds, courtesy of the shuffle function on my Guilty Pleasure Spotify playlist.
I was amused.
Up until the point where I lifted my eyes and made eye contact with what was quite possibly the sweetest-looking little elderly woman I think I’ve ever seen.
We made eye contact for a full five seconds, at least. Her, clutching her bag, and me, with my finger still in my mouth, struck motionless by this moment, with a stripper’s greatest backing track playing in his ears.
One of us fell in love right there, and it wasn’t her.
But I have to wonder, what if she could read my mind? Could she hear me think, ‘Oh crap. I can’t look away. I should take my finger out of my mouth…Should I start stripping?‘ and would she be amused? Disgusted? Aroused?
Who knows. Not I, nor do I really want to think about it.
She probably just saw a young lad in a baseball cap staring almost gormlessly at her with his finger in his mouth, and a pretzel in his other hand, and then went about her day, with nary a stray thought thrown my way.
Whereas I am going to relive this moment many a time.
Maybe I should have started stripping.