We met on a London tube train - Part 1

It was 1997. I met him on the tube during my morning commute from Mill Hill to Hackney. He started chatting to me. He complimented me on my height and my 90s grunge style - lace jumper, over a long dress with Dr Marten boots. There was some banter. He liked my accent. He was 6’ 6” so made an immediate impression. He departed the train at Kings Cross saying “I’ll see you later”.

“Sure you will” I thought. The chances of that were one in nine million. I didn’t even have his name. I chalked it down to another, crazy, London experience.

He did see me later though. A few days later, he was there again on my morning commute. More banter and this time as he departed at Kings Cross he gave me a slip of paper with his name and number on it. His name was Steve.

I didn’t call him.

We met again a few days later at Finchley Central tube station.

It transpires that Steve had seen me at the station most mornings. I was usually with my friend and room mate. This particular morning I was alone. Ours was not the spontaneous meeting on the train I had thought it was. Steve had contrived it. I had however caused him some confusion because I changed it up a bit. I sometimes caught the tube closer to where I lived in Mill Hill East.

He was tall, dark, handsome and charming.

And his real name was not Steve.

That should have been my first warning.