Without divulging too much top secret information, suffice it to say that my relationship status is currently single.
As in footloose, fancy free, answering to nobody, occasionally even wanton. (Well, half-way wanton. OK, a 1/3rd).
When you're on the wrong side of 40 - though it could be argued that if you're still alive any way you slice 40 is fine - the opportunities to meet decent, non-Hobbity, reasonably well mannered gents with a pedigree (read: no serial killer history) are few and far between. So there I am wheeling around my carriage, ring-finger-ringless, at the local grocer's. Nosing my way through the sensible cereals while plotting a mad grab for the Corn Pops when nobdy is looking. Life is ordinary, more or less. I've got no complaints, the sun is finally out, and I can probably spend just under the $40 I budget for groceries each week. Essentially minding my own beeswax, right?
Out of nowhere this fella in a faded peach t-shirt, cargo shorts and fashionably weathered green baseball cap (you know, the cool suburban could-still-be-single guy outfit) sidles by and says "Hi". Rather brightly, I might add. He's not un-handsome. He appears to be alone. No evidence of horns underneath the hat. So far so good. Skinny legs, but who is perfect? (For the sake of this argument, a world with both Antonio Banderas and Johnny Deep does not exist).
"Get any time off?" he parries, hoisting himself up onto his cart the way little kids do when they're horsing around. "Uhm" I stutter and choke on the sudden hank of sawdust in my throat. "Yeah, well you know, the weekend".
Do I know this guy?
Is he hitting on me?
Am I on Candid Camera?
Is this where the What Not To Wear crew leaps out at me with their terrifying cameras? (I swear I will hang Stacey and Clinton by their own smugness if they ever try it).
Turns out, none of the above, except this: He truly doesn't know me. He mistook me for somebody else. Yes, it took a few minutes for me to figure this out, while pushing a carriage full of produce destined to sit and grow ears in my refrigerator.
Would this be a weird way to meet somebody? "Oh, your unforgettable face ... " I mean, it's not exactly a "meet cute" scenario. If the Tom Hanks character met the Meg Ryan character, would he say "Hey, aren't you the girl who took my order for 10 pounds of herring last week over at the docks?" There's no romance in it. Even if she was the girl who took his order.
That bird, as they say, won't fly.
But until I figured it out I felt like I had some twitch back in my tail. You know, the way cats wave their little furry appendage around behind them while they are in no great hurry to get from point A to point B. Like there's a looooong life, "slow down honey, what's the rush? Life is gooooooood."
And for a few minutes there, I'll admit: it was gooooood.
(footnote: The necklace in the image was on etsy once ... I have no idea who it belongs to but I'd love to give credit. Please drop a line if you know, K? Gracias).