Hi, I’m Maya, I’m 29, and I’m a stalker. Through completely non-grubby means, I have had Bono beckon me for a cuddle, The Hoff has laughed at my jokes, and Tom Cruise has led me by the hand on one of his red-carpet walkabouts. But the stalk of my life, the one I’m most proud of, was the handsome stranger on the train who ended up falling in love with me.
For almost a year after he started getting the 8.21 a.m. to King’s Cross, I wore that little bit extra mascara and tried not to stare as he read books I loved. He was so beautiful and seemed like a good soul, but we never spoke. I tried to test if he would notice me by ‘accidentally’ dropping my ticket, to see if he would pick it up. My heart sang when he did, but I blushed too hard and squeaked too high to say anything more than an inelegant ‘Ta’.
It took almost a year for me to pluck up the courage to write him a note – on my birthday in May – and another eleven days for me to actually give it to him. When he emailed me at 5 p.m. to say thanks, happy birthday, but unfortunately he had a girlfriend, I was gutted but decided to cling onto the use of the word ‘unfortunately’. Remember, I’m good.
Months passed. Friends told me to move on. I went on the odd date. I even dated the guy I used to slow down for in kiss chase at primary school… but I just couldn’t get past the fact that they weren’t Train Man. My sister called me ‘too picky’. I know I sound like I was taking the fast train to Crazytown, but I really saw myself with Train Man.
Months after I’d given Train Man the note, I was doing a shoot for a newspaper I was working for (you might remember the whole Fifi Fashion Insider furore – yeah, that’s me), and who was the photographer at the studio? That’s right, Train Man. He didn’t get the chance to tell me his circumstances had changed. Stunned in shock and silenced by his beauty, I was too embarrassed to seize the moment. When his ex-girlfriend walked in, I fled the studio with a hot face and a broken heart; I thought they were still together.
Fast-forward a few weeks and I was on the last train home, stuck in the snow at 1 a.m. in a village outpost. I was about to panic, and there he was in the doorway. He told me he was single; he had been for months. He said he’d noticed me – HE’D NOTICED ME?! – way before I dropped my ticket or threw the note at him. He told me he’d noticed my sparkly eyes. We kissed in the doorway of a closed pub and that night I fell in love for real.
We no longer get the 8.21 a.m. to King’s Cross. In fact, we’re about to embark on another, bigger, adventure – my long-held dream of travelling the world for a year. And you, dear Esprit reader, are invited too…