Dearest Gorgeous and Delicious Stranger,

You, dear stranger, are an amazing sample of what the male gender of this species has to offer. You were wearing clean clothing (black dress pants, white buttoned shirt and a black jacket) and seemed to have interesting taste in music in what I could hear blaring from your iPod earbuds (For all those who care, it was The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' Your Guardian Angel).

I couldn't believe my luck when you sat down next to me, to me! Granted, it was the only seat available on the close-to-being crowded train car, but that's okay. I love you for sitting next to me anyways.

With a sidelong glance that I hope wasn't too obvious, I noticed that you were clean shaven, no visible nicks or cuts from your shave this morning. Always good, a girl likes to know that a guy knows how to use a razor properly. Plus, you smelled really nice. The cologne? Very nice touch. You should model for the company that makes it. Really, you should. Or you should become a Calvin Klein model... It was all I could do to refrain from drooling at your delectable form sitting so very close to me.

During the fifteen long, wonderful minutes that you sat next to me, I came to the conclusion that you are perhaps the most perfect male specimen in the whole wide world. You even had an intriguing pair of piercings underneath your lower lip. Very yummy indeed. And your height when you were standing was to die for, the way your dark brown hair was perhaps an inch away from the top of the door frame... I'd like to climb you any day of the week.

But my fantasies were soon cut short when an equally beautiful man came onto the train and you greeted him with such enthusiasm and affection and with a kiss that set off a jealous pang inside of me.

Thank you anyways for those lovely fifteen minutes where you sat there and graced me with your perfect presence. You are still incredibly gorgeous and I wish you didn't have a boyfriend.

From the girl who sat there, silent and trying very hard not to visibly drool