In Which It Happens Every Time We Touch

This Recording Will Date You Wantonly And Then Dump You Without Cause

Our epic series on dating continues today, but before you engage Dan’s Subway Crush, revisit the highlights:

Georgia Hardstark on drinking and dating

Molly Lambert’s spring crushes take to the streets

Devendra and Natalie’s stormy but oh-so-real relationship as told to Alex Carnevale

Tess Lynch on the pink rhombus of the girl crush

Molly Young versus Sasha Grey

Tyler Coates is through with men

Molly Lambert brought her considerable science background to the fore

Will Hubbard on the meaning of missed connections

It’s Just A Little Crush Every Time We Touch

by Dan Murray

It was a happy day and it was my stop on the 6 Train. The doors opened. She lifted and pulled her shoulder length brown hair into a loose ponytail.

She was probably a foot taller than Audrey Hepburn, yet the nape of her neck was comparable. I only saw neck.

She walked heavier in nurses’ clogs and wool socks worn calf-high over her black tights. I followed her down the platform at 59th street losing her only as she bound down the steps to the NRW train. She was no exception — all women walk faster than me. I guessed which staircase she sprang down, left or right. Luckily my slow gait led me in the right direction and I soon followed her into the same car on the downtown N.

“We Are Nowhere And It’s Now” – Bright Eyes (mp3)

I picked a seat diagonally across from her toward the middle of the train. If I had sat in the empty seat next to her maybe I would have peeped up an introduction, but probably not. Why waste those precious few stops without an awkward moment or two of eye contact?

The plan worked. I crossed my legs back and forth and with every knee jerk I threw a glance her way. She saw me. I turned down the volume in my headphones. Maybe the silence would help me concentrate on her. Maybe her concentration would help her see me. Maybe she would be attracted to me! Maybe this would be the real thing.

the author at some kind of scorpion cruelty event

I hopped off at Times Square. I said not a word, and our eyes did not lock again. When I got back to the office I immediately shared the news with my co-worker.

I just met my wife! And she looks like Catherine!” Catherine is an associate of ours.

“When Catherine was young, she looked like Patricia Arquette in Lost Highway, but with brown hair,” my coworker mused unenthusiastically. Catherine and I flirt on the phone occasionally. In my fantasies, we usually do it after she drops her kids off at school. Sometimes her husband watches. He sold a few sculptures to the Whitney years ago and since the money ran out she has supported him. That’s why he watches me fuck his wife.

I turned to my computer. Will would appreciate the news. This was in my inbox:

Subject line: This has dan written all over it (and will too)

Email body:

I immediately responded without clicking on the link.

dudes. for real i just fell in love with my wife on the subway. i swear on everything holy and on the pope’s visit to new york. she is was and will be what my wife looks like. i am just so blown away right now. I LOVED THIS WOMAN> 5’10 brunette pale soft skin puppy eyes she was correcting art clsss homework. i am speechless. i am not dead inside. hoooray for spring and subway crushes i will see her again. should i post it on here????

Then I clicked on the link. Lo and behold the first post on Subway Crush on April 16, 2008 read:

Blue Barbour Coat, Weary Green Eyes

Saw you slump into a corner on the L-train at Union Square. Couldn’t stop staring at those penetrating green eyes! I bet everyone says you look like Clark Kent in those glasses. Be my Superman?

Blue Barbour Coat, Tired Green Eyes. That’s Me! I thought. I wear a blue Barbour coat. I have green eyes. And often I am told that I look tired! Had I made a connection with Audrey’s Nape? Had she beat me to the Internet punch and posted her requited love for me? I was baffled.

I fired off the following e-mail:

now i can’t post my real subway crush ’cause she’s going to see that stupid ass post one of you guys wrote and think i’m so major loser when in fact i’m a minor loser. so fuck all you. i really felt undead inside for the first time in a while and i just fell in love with a subway girl for the first time in about a month and now you’ve ruined it.

i’m glad you get your kicks making fun of my measly attempts to fall magically in love. thanks thanks real friends.

I checked the site again.

Huge Pussy on the L Train

Wednesday April 16, 2008 at 12:09 pm

Loved your Williamsburg prep look, but you seemed like a huge vag who can’t take a joke!!! Are you from Rhode Island or something?

So close.

the author’s forger roommate

* * *

It was another sad day. I had only masturbated twice in two weeks. This is a sure sign—my aunt often tells me—of real impending depression. If only for a fleeting moment of relief, the cure of a couple pints of Guinness would surely do me no wrong.

I left in rough shape. I bummed around a bit. I crashed an opening. Alone I waited forty minutes in line. I smoked my last bummed Merritt. I had to pee. When they finally let me in I waited twenty minutes for my one free beer and waited another twenty for the bathroom. I left. I ambled slowly around the neighborhood. Down Elizabeth, east on Prince, up Mott, across Houston, back down Elizabeth, east on Prince, down Mulberry…

My mother rang me twice. I emailed my aunt earlier in the day with a few self-indulgent, melancholy notes. She probably mentioned it to my mother, hence the double call.

She badgered me and badgered me like a good mother does. Half-drunk on beer and half-high on sugar, I broke down like a hungry baby halfway to his mammy’s tit. I cried like I cried in college when I watched Father of the Bride 2 on many hungover Saturday mornings.

As I whimpered on and on, I glanced up. Across the street there she was, clog hopping into a local bar. I held back the real tears.

By chance Will was cruising down the Bowery in a cab. We met and bought some gum and chugged a bottle of water. I threw in some eye drops, sacked it up and went into the bar in search of Audrey. After a shit ton of beer and Pepsi and pizza and water my bladder was about to explode. I waited in line another five minutes. I gave Willie a twenty spot for beers and took a gloriously long pee. I flushed.

When I left the bathroom Audrey was a step in front of me. As she walked by, again, I only saw her neck. I was in whispering distance but she walked to the door and left. Will and I waited over another round. She never came back.

I awoke to this on Friday morning: e-mail from Mom.

Good Morning Danny!

Maybe you can sneak out of the office to see the Pope mobile…go on line to check the time when he will be driving down Madison Ave.

Try to get a good night sleep tonight….get up early tomorrow and get some fresh air….look into a 5pm Mass tomorrow night….going to Mass will help you through this storm you are going through….be patient.

NYC looks so pretty on the Today show!

I love you!


My mom always knows when I am sad. Sadly, she rarely knows when I am happy.

I think Audrey saw me this time.

Dan Murray is a contributor to This Recording. You can view his previous work here and here.

“Love Tried to Welcome Me” – Madonna (mp3)

“Happy Ending” – Mika (mp3)

“Serotonin” – Simple Kid (mp3)


Neko Case in Poetry.

We wish new artists were not producing music.

Conversations Danish and I should not have had.


3 thoughts on “In Which It Happens Every Time We Touch

  1. Good website! I truly love how it is easy on my eyes and the data are well written. I’m wondering how I could be notified whenever a new post has been made. I’ve subscribed to your RSS feed which must do the trick! Have a nice day!

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