I knew my housemate hadn’t heard me properly, because she barely looked up from her chopping board the first time I told her. “He what…?” she asked, when I repeated the story about the man who’d just struck up conversation with me for six whole stops on the Northern line.
Her sudden investment in the story made me chuckle, not least because she had exactly the same reaction as everyone else I’d told in the 30 minutes since my first-in-a-decade talking-to-a-stranger Tube encounter. Was he a creep? No. Did he ask for my number? No again. Was he... flirting with me? I think he was just trying to be friendly. You should have seen the look on each of their faces when I told them I’d spent that very day at work interviewing a couple who’d met — you guessed it — on the Tube (the District line, in case you were wondering where to direct your eye-flirting).
