As you don’t know me well, you may not realize how fickle I am. I rarely get excited over men . . . or clothes, or anything, for that matter. So, when I see someone or something I like, my excitement level hits an all-time high, since the occasion is so rare.
Instead of going home for lunch like I usually do, I ran to the grocery store near the office to grab a salad and some fruit for myself and my co-workers (cherries – because I’m nice like that). As I was walking toward the store, a big white truck rolls into a spot a couple cars from me. We make eye contact and I think, “He’s cute.”
I get my salad from the deli while he is at the sandwich counter. I recognize him as the same guy. This time I think, “He’s really cute!” As I walk by, we make eye contact, and it’s pretty obvious that we’re both staring. I suck in my tummy, walk taller, and wish I hadn’t worn my computer glasses. My outfit is pretty cute though, and I’m glad I put my hair in a ponytail since I didn’t blow-dry it this morning.
After I got what I needed, I walk out of the aisle toward the check-out counter. He sees me again and waves off the counter person. In my mind, they offered to let him pay there and he declined just so he could GET IN LINE RIGHT BEHIND ME!
Like any idiot, I stand there feeling his eyes on me, and I’m frozen. I want to turn around and say “hi” and he’s sooo close . . . But, I’m totally petrified and I don’t know what to do, because I know if I try, I will say or do something stupid, like my voice will be off or I’ll fart or something. Shouldn’t he be the one doing something anyway? Isn’t that his job? The people in front of me are about 97 years old and pay with a personal check. It’s like the longest wait in a grocery store check-out line ever and I’m dying!
My turn comes and I’m so glad that my grocery order does not contain tampons, douches, condoms or Monostat. I’m also happy that there are no Doritos or Ben & Jerrys. The check-out lady butchers my last name and I’m so out of there. I walk/sprint self-consciously to the door and practically get run over while booking it to my car.
Once I’m there, I realize blew just it. I wished I’d just turned around and smiled, given him the opportunity to introduce himself. Shit, shit, shit! Regrouping, I decide to leave my number on his windshield. I rifle through my purse. At this point the thought of sneaking something onto his windshield before he walks out of the store practically makes me pee my pants. No pen. No business card. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
So, I sit there. And wait. And think. And then realize I probably just missed out on my soul mate, my lifelong partner, the father of my children, and he’s probably got a huge . . . wait, he’s walking out of the store! Is he looking my way? Will he walk over to my window and ask for my number? Can he see me? OMG . . . what do I do?
And, he’s gone. Thankfully he was driving a company vehicle with a nice, big logo emblazened on three sides. Naturally, as soon as I step into my office, I look him up, then thank the Google-Gods for their awesomeness. He owns the company and I have the number and the email. I don’t know if that number or email goes to him or a secretary type. He could be married. Or not. He’s definitely cute (soooo cute).
So, now I pose the question to my dear reader(s):
What would you do?