Can I have your number?

I thought about preemptively titling this post with a number after it, but that seemed over zealous. I'll simply count the times someone asks for my number on the light rail separately. 

Meet Ross. Unnaturally angelic blonde curly hair, cut too short to pass as a cherub, but I'm sure his mother thought he was darling. We spoke of parties, of school, of party schools, and a friend of his who moved close to my home town. Thankfully, and good for you Ross, he was not creepy, merely conversational. And when leaving the train he asked for my number but didn't balk when I passed on the question. We wished each other luck, and went our separate ways. If Ross over here sets the standard of light rail pick ups, then at least I won't be excessively creeped out all the time.