Tuesday, January 4, 2011


A Few Questions for the Hot Guy I Pass on the Way to Work Every Morning

1. What’s your job, exactly? You're always entering the subway station just as I'm coming out of it, at around 9:30 a.m. So I’d guess you don’t have to be at work until 10, or maybe even later, depending where your office is. (I'm assuming you work in an office.)

I don’t know how far you take the subway since I've never followed you. That’s not to say I haven’t considered following you, it’s just to say that when I see you at 9:30 in the morning I'm already half an hour late, so following you isn’t very practical for me. Especially if you’re journeying far away, like up to Harlem or something. I don’t think you’re going to Harlem, but I don’t really know, and it would be great if you could clarify.

I’m also curious to know what sort of job is okay with its employees showing up at 10 a.m., if not later. Plus you’re usually wearing jeans and adorable sneakers. You must work in a really cool office, if that’s your workplace dress code. Can you tell me what it’s like there? Maybe give me a business card or some other informative paperwork?

2. What happened to that girl you were dating? I don’t know if you remember this, but you used to have a girlfriend. This was last winter. Even if she wasn’t technically your girlfriend, I’m pretty convinced you were at least banging her, since otherwise why would you two be walking to the subway together in the morning? Unless you were meeting for frequent pre-work breakfasts. Do you like breakfast?

Anyway, what happened to this girl? I haven’t seen her in months. And why was it also okay for her to head into work at 9:30? What are the odds that two people would start dating and neither of them would have to arrive at work until late morning? Unless she is in fact your co-worker. Is she your co-worker? Is that awkward for you now that you guys have broken up?

3. Where are the other girls you’re dating? You must have an active love life. You’re a tall, hot man living in New York City; the ladies must fall at your feet. Yet when I see you walking to the subway these days, you're nearly always alone. Do you not do sleepovers on weeknights because you think they would distract you from your very serious, very demanding job, whatever it is? Or have you made some sort of virginity pledge, like because you're saving yourself for me?

4. How do you always manage to look so good? Even when it’s the dead of winter and I hurry past you wearing a ripped pea coat over a puffy thermal vest, and I’m dripping snot all over my scarf, and my snow boots from high school are caked in dirt — somehow, you look great. Even when it’s the middle of summer and my un-pedicured feet trip by in three-year-old flip-flops, my hair afrizz in the humidity, my skin glistening with sweat — still, you look incredible. A pair of inscrutable sunglasses, and you are ready to fucking go. How do you do it?

5. How often do you think about me? I would say that I think about you a normal amount, taking into account how hot you are, and the fact that I’ve seen you at least a few times a week every week for the past four years. Do you have a list of questions for me, too? If so, why don’t you just ask me? Are you intimidated by the way I never look you in the eye, or by the cool music I'm probably listening to on my headphones whenever I walk by you, or by the extreme levels of sweat I manage to secrete during the summer months?

Just to check: You do notice that you pass me every morning, right? You probably see a number of short brunette girls on your way to the West 4th Street subway station. But you notice me specifically, don’t you? And you also think it’s so uncanny that we keep running into each other like this, right? And you think that it can’t possibly be a coincidence, it must mean something, the way our paths keep crossing?

I know, I know. We're in total agreement here.

Leila Sales is the author of the novel MOSTLY GOOD GIRLS and the Leila Texts blog. She lives in Brooklyn.

Photo via Flickr

16 Comments / Post A Comment


weird, i feel like everybody i know in media/publishing/advertising works 10-6? that's been the case for every office i've worked in.

also, <3 "Do you like breakfast?"


ugh, he's probably an ad guy. stay away! they're only cute until they open their mouths.


Can I be on the subway you're on? Because my daily thought process is "Why are there no hot guys on this train? STOP LOOKING AT ME, GUY WHO LOOKS AT ME EVERY DAY. It was creepy yesterday, it's creepy today, and it'll be creepy everyday until I can finally get up early enough to stop being on this 9:47 R train."


But I'm only looking because I want to tell you that you have skidmarks on your pants.


Kudos on the subtle use of butt jokes, STC, but (pun intentional)... how, exactly, does one manage to get skidmarks on the visible exterior of her pants?


Eleanor went commando back in the 80's with Schwarzenegger and never looked back. It's a life decision I respect butt carries ram ifications.


Mmm, nope, not yet. Diagram it out for me.


That sounds like it describes me to a T ... especially the not starting work until 10 am part.

Except I work from home, so it must be someone else. My wife will be relieved!


A friend just sent me this. Probably because it's my life. (Wrote this in June: http://www.guidetomenhattan.com/2010/06/to-this-mornings-future-husband.html)

PS there are tons of cute guys at the West 4th stop. I only know this because that's the one I took when I had a boyfriend. Grrr.


Hey, Leila. Glad one of my friends was the first to like this on Facebook so I can give you some straight answers!

1. I'm unemployed, but make enough to get by selling my hair, fingernails, etc. to admiring women. (And men!) It's very easy to stack paper when you're a hot dude who always looks hot!

2. We weren't dating. That was my image consultant, who helps me stay on brand on a day to day basis. Unfortunately, I had to fire her after I woke up to her staring longingly at my sleeping form, whittling a miniature sculpture of my angelic face from a match stick. When I confronted her, she led me back to the shrine she had erected in my honor, and I had to call the police-slash-fire her.

3. I have tons of girlfriends, but I have a strict no-mornings rule. It takes a long time for me to preen myself into maximum hotness, and I don't want any fine or less-fine-in-the-light-of-day honeys distracting me from my regimen.

4. See above. I also have an on-train stylist, who meets up with me halfway through my day of riding around the city in circles attracting the attention of women (and men!) who would want to buy parts of my beautiful body. Usually after about 5 hours on the G I need a quick beautification.

5. I think about you every day. Let's meet up and talk about it over coffee and my catalog of available body parts for purchase. Nothing cements a meaningful relationship like a glass vial of my eyelashes.


In the same spirit, I implore of the short, unfathomably pretty, short-red-haired girl I used to pass in the hall connecting the L to the 1 at 6th Ave: Are you, in fact, a manic pixie-dream girl, as your prettiness, stature, and hairstyle lead me to believe? Did you notice me noticing you? Finally, where have you been? Mornings are considerably duller.


The Chinese got her. Some novelty-toilet-seat-manufacturing billionaire in Guangdong is pouring her marrow into his buckwheat noodles because he thinks it will help his ancestors keep some animistic demons at bay.

It's that, or maybe she just gets the morning squirts like my Keeshond.


I was thinking maybe she got a new job, but you're probably right.

Andrew Green

he's gay. If he can pick out sunglasses that don't make him look like a tool, he's gay. Or actually Ralph Lauren.


Less time asking questions, more time calling the police to get him to propose to you.


omg, this is hilarious. actually reminds me of this post i saw awhile back… http://thewittygritty.com/2010/03/19/finding-home

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