It was 3 months into my first project, on a Sunday evening, and I was waiting for the plane to take off so that I could have an early Monday start on client site.
To set the scene, it was raining, the weather was grey, and I was in my oversized jumper, jeans and hair tied in a bun (the exact opposite to the beautiful girls you see with top-knots on Instagram). Before boarding had completed I thought I’d take advantage of the empty plane and use the toilet before I was locked in by fellow flyers sitting in the middle and aisle seat. (I know, a riveting start to the story…)
Upon my return, I see that two people had already occupied the middle and aisle seats and I am forced to politely ask them to get up, and both do so cheerfully. Mr. Middle Seat instantly caught my eye; tall, olive skinned, hazel eyes and dark hair, he looked Mediterranean. He wore trousers, loafers and a shirt. Amazing. My journey suddenly got a whole lot more interesting…and then I remembered how I had looked and decided to sleep for the 2 hours instead of engaging in a conversation with him (oh but I so wish I had).
We landed, and parted and I thought nothing more about my brief encounter (perhaps a bit of regret that I didn’t get to talk to Mr. Middle seat).
Five days later, after an intense week at work, Friday had finally come and it was time to fly back home. It was sunny and warm, I was in a good mood and had a weekend filled with events. The beautiful weather inspired me to put the effort into doing my hair and wearing a summer dress.
My flight departed at 6pm and the sun was shining as bright as ever. Again, I had chosen to sit by the window (did I ever mention that I love watching the clouds and sky?!) And there, to my disbelief, stood Mr. Middle seat waiting to sit down next to me (I still remember the seat number). I had completely forgotten the rules one usually plays to when attracted to the opposite sex and I clumsily greeted him with a:
Hey, oh ma gawd! We were on the same flight when coming from London!
To my relief, he had initially forgotten the sleepy nomad sitting next to him (but eventually remembered or perhaps politely pretended to do so when I explained that I was the one in the big yellow jumper…going smooth so far, right?)
The flight was 2 hours long. But I wish it had been longer. He was incredibly funny, sweet and smart. We were smiling and laughing throughout the flight. I had learnt about his background, his family and his plans for the future and I loved hearing about every bit of it (even writing about this still gives me butterflies).
Upon landing, he had asked me about my plans over the weekend, without thinking that this could be an opportunity, I had been unintentionally vague with my response:
Me: I’m going to my friend’s birthday at X bar.
Mr. Middle Seat: Oh which one, there are a few in London?
Me: No idea
If I could redo that part, I would have said, let me check the Facebook Invite when we land, and you should come if you’re free. *face-palm*. There were a few more opportunities at baggage claim, but instead of doing something about it, I had decided to run away!
If I happen to be lucky a third-time round, I would, without hesitation, give him my number. Better to try than to always think ‘What if I had’?