When You Got It, You Got It

The strangest thing happened to me today. I was doing my regular Monday morning things: taking Zane to his OT appointment, getting very irritated about said OT appointment, trekking to the battery store to find a replacement part for Zane’s nebulizer, and making a trip to the grocery store.

A fine morning, really. Not delightful. Not heinous. (Well, the OT was a bit heinous, but I’m working hard to move through this.)

Anyway, it was at the grocery store that the strange thing happened. I got hit on. Like honest to goodness, a man took a fancy to me.

It was so strange that I didn’t really recognize what was happening until it was over. One minute I was wrangling my preschooler; the next, I was walking away from a fairly handsome young fellow feeling slightly embarrassed.

And I don’t tell you this lightly. In fact, I almost didn’t post about this at all. After all, it seems kind of arrogant to while away your time with stories of my desirability. But it’s only arrogant if you don’t realize that it happens to me so rarely that I didn’t even know it was happening until it was almost over.

It happened at the deli counter, which makes sense as my would-be paramour was the deli guy.

And now I will give you an entirely fictional account of what occurred. (Because the real account – of how he smiled goofily at me a few times and then brushed my hand as he handed me my ham – just isn’t all that interesting.)

Deli Bob: Hey, Little Lady. Can I help you?

Me: What? Um, yeah. I’d like a half pound of your London Broil, please. Zane, get your finger out of your nose!

Deli Bob: I’d like to broil some of your London. I’ll get that right for you.

Me: Broil some of my London? I’m not sure that sentence even makes sense. Can I also get another half pound of your turkey ham?

Deli Bob: Nobody likes turkey ham. You’re just coming up with reasons to talk to me. Don’t fight it. By the way, how would you like that sliced?

Me: Thin, but not shaved. And I do like turkey ham. It’s all the flavor of ham, but it’s healthier.

Deli Bob: (brushes my hand as he hands me my deli meat) Is that good? You know it is.

Me: Uh…yeah. Thanks.

So, there it is. My amorous adventure of the day. I've learned a valuable lesson, though: Never go to the grocery store in anything but yoga pants. No one ever hits on the lady in yoga pants.