Sunday, January 11, 2009

Love and lactose.

I don’t regularly shop at Trader Joe’s, but when my college friends are in town, I sometimes tag along while they stock up on groceries. I’d probably get pretty bored there if the store didn’t have a few new interesting selections to check out each time I visit. Tonight’s discoveries included sushi with carrot wrappers, chocolate-covered edamame, and a cute girl in the cheese aisle.

I caught a glimpse of her from behind. White iPod earbuds flowing along her black wavy hair. Fur-lined boots leading up her tight, blue pants. I figured she warranted a closer look. Grabbing a wedge of cranberry cheese next to her, I peered over as I gave it a whiff. Wasn’t too bad. The cheese or the girl.

If only picking up the girl was as easy as picking up the cheese. Talking to strangers at grocery stores has never been my thing, so I resigned myself to let standing two feet away from her be the closest our relationship could ever be.

I knew I could never get the girl. But I could still get the cheese. I told myself to remember to pick up a wedge before we left and walked back over to my friends.

A few minutes went by, and our group started heading in the direction of the cheese aisle. The girl was still there. I thought I’d get in a little more two-feet-away time, so I picked up the cranberry cheese and asked my friends what they thought of it.

As Gigi gave it her blessings, Lucas noticed a tub of cheddar pub cheese on the top shelf. He asked us if we thought he should get it.

“You should give it a try,” I heard from behind me. “It goes great with garlic pita chips.”

I turned around. It was the girl. She looked over at me with an awkward look on her face.

“Sorry, but is your name Jon?”

I was caught completely off guard. A bit puzzled, I looked back at her and replied, “No.”

“Oh,” she said back as she turned and quickly walked away.

As she disappeared around the canned food aisle, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell just happened. I thought I’d at least get a, “Sorry, you look like an old friend of mine,” or a, “You look so familiar,” from her as a follow-up instead of instantaneous retreat. All I could figure was it was one of three things:

1. She really thought I was someone she knew named Jon and was embarrassed about the mistake.

2. She was attempting to find a way to talk to me and thought she failed miserably.

3. The smell of the clam chowder on my breath from the store sample I had earlier was overwhelming and she wanted to get away as soon as possible.

Whatever the reason, I’m sure I could have pulled off something better than, “No.”

“Maybe. What’s your name?”

“Sorry. My name’s Andrew.”

“Nope. But I have a puppy named Jon.”

Hell, even, “Yes, I’m Jon,” would have been better.

As long as it wasn’t Lucas’ suggestion of, “I can be anyone you want me to be!”

Unfortunately, you can’t return a line when you think it up ten minutes later.

So now I’m without a cheese girl.

And I forgot to buy the cheese.

Nothing ever works out for me.