She’s sitting 4 feet away from me. My heart is pounding, and she’s only been sitting there for 10 seconds. I never used to get an adrenaline rush like this before I began learning what I know now. I guess the newfound confidence comes at a price. Or maybe this is my brain just telling the new me how to act, like my heart thumping is supposed to be telling me that the right thing to do is to just go and tell her what you think. It’s not a bad thing, just a new impulse I haven’t grown accustom to yet.

So, how can I remedy my adrenaline? TALK TO HER. Well, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll walk up to her, as I’ve done before, and tell her how I have a thing for girls with red hair and that she totally fits the bill. I’ll ask her for her name and what her story is. She’ll tell me about how she’s in school for a passion of hers, and I’ll tell her how it means a lot to me when people are passionate. Or, she’ll tell me she’s doing some mundane job, and I’ll ask her if she’s happy and try to offer new perspective. I will find out, “who is this beautiful stranger?” And I will put the two of us in a bubble for a moment in time, which if I’m lucky enough will be enough time for us to connect on a deeper level, and then we may meet again.

But then you begin making excuses. She’s wearing headphones and we’re on a subway car. Who knows how far she’s going? Maybe she doesn’t want to talk. Not that I care if anyone sees me try, but I don’t want to be disturbing to others. Do I look okay? There’s no way she doesn’t have a boyfriend! But I’ve been taught that it’ll only take a couple if sentences to pull her out of her reality and get her engaged in mine, that I possess all I need to have all I want. The pit in my stomach, the adrenaline, that’s why it’s there. It’s telling me “Connect. Meet. Learn, live.”

She’s getting up, she’s leaving the subway, and my heart is still pumping because I “almost did it”. Today, she has red hair. Tomorrow, she may have curly brown hair, or may be wearing a leather jacket, or have silky tan skin with a cute little birthmark to remind me that imperfections are to be loved. And maybe this time, I’ll approach her and tell her I think she’s the sexiest girl I’ve seen that day and that her birthmark is adorable. She’ll laugh in a moment of unexpected discomfort combined with a bit of intrigue an lust, wondering “Who is this man? How is he so bold? Can I trust him?” And I will be there to answer all.

Who is this man? One that is certainly centered, bordering on enlightened. Who’s passions, ambitions and sense of adventure guide his next decision almost without a thought. He knows and loves this about himself. How is he so bold? To which I will say, how couldn’t I be? If I weren’t, I would miss out on the chance to meet someone like you, and I don’t want to miss these connections anymore. Can I be trusted? Well, can anyone be trusted? Yes, they can, for every human anyone has ever befriended or loved was once a stranger. I’m just here to tear down the barrier, to make myself vulnerable in hopes that maybe you’ll do the same, so that we may connect.

The next day, I see her again, this time, she’s a short blonde girl. Frail and delicate. Thump, thump, thump. I feel another shot of adrenaline surge through me, telling me to meet her, ordering me to connect. No headphones, a moment of eye contact, and an open seat next to her. I commit myself, and begin walking to her, each step pumping more blood through my arteries. I sit down, I stare into her eyes, and all it takes is a simple “hello.” She smiles, and all the nerves melt away as we begin our journey.