On Monday I put on my big girl pants and took light rail downtown to have lunch with a friend. I always feel grown-up when I am downtown. The restaurants are all so, well, hip. And – for the record – I am so NOT. Still, it’s fun to see how the other much-more-hip crowd lives.

But one of my favorite parts of the whole downtown experience is light rail. I love our light rail system. The station is a mere three-quarters of a mile from my house, and the train lets me off in the new uber-cool (and uber-hip) Union Station area.

The best part of the light rail experience, of course, is the people-watching. During a recent short-lived jury duty experience (I was dismissed about two hours after I arrived at the courthouse and dang, I would have been such a great juror), I took light rail to the courthouse during the morning commute. I am quite a savvy mid-day light rail traveler, and I was struck at how different morning commuters are from mid-day passengers. During the day, it seems the train travelers are mostly families or groups of friends – all in jolly moods and talking and laughing freely.

During rush hour, the trains are quiet. Commuters travel alone. A full-third of them, I’ll bet, are catching a quick nap during the trip. Some are quietly reading. Others merely gaze out the window in a daze. No one talks. Most carry brief cases or large commuter bags.  Some have lunch boxes.

Anyhoo, as I took the light rail back to my house following my oh-so-hip lunch, I couldn’t help but notice two young women – maybe early 20s – traveling together. One of the women carried her daughter – or at least I presume it was her daughter – around 3 years old or so. The woman-with-the-daughter was very pretty, and also very tattooed. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, and I saw that she had a fairly large tattoo on her neck. The tattoo said MIGUEL, with lots of loop-de-doos and curly cues and hearts.

Now I, of course, begin immediately to write her story, as I’m so prone to do. Seeing no wedding ring, I presume she is not married to Miguel. However, they are a devoted couple, and have a daughter. She is so in love and so committed to him (though not committed enough to be married; what can I say?), she has his name tattooed prominently on her neck.

But here’s the thing. According to an arguably-unreliable-but- nevertheless-often-tossed-around statistic, 50 percent of marriages end in divorce. I would guess the rate of unsuccessful partnerships that don’t include marriage would be 50 percent or higher. So, there is a good chance that this young woman and Miguel won’t end up together. In 8.8 years, they will be history.

What does she do about her neck? (Yes, folks, this is the kind of thing that keeps my brain occupied throughout my light rail trip.)

Does she pay to have the tattoo removed? I would think that would be so very painful. Of course, I would think getting a tattoo on one’s neck would be painful, so clearly I’m a wimp and a non-tattoo getter.

The alternative, of course, is to only date men named Miguel. That way you could avoid the whole getting-the-tattoo-removed scenario (though it might be difficult to explain on the first date).

Her match.com profile would be very short. No concerns about long walks on beaches or religious beliefs.

Must be named Miguel.

There’s a chance I’m overthinking the whole thing.