So I Walked Into A Grocery Store...
Okay. There's a story I have never told here. One of my most amusing stories, too, for that matter. It has always seemed more fit for parties than a family-friendly blog ... and to be honest, it is more fit for parties than a family-friendly blog.
However, as it is one of my best stories, most of my family members have heard it, and it contains no actual foul language ... plus I'm reasonably sure I have no young, impressionable readers ... and besides that, it could serve as a warning tale if I do ... I've decided to tell it here.
With any luck, I can write it very closely to how I normally tell it. I apologize in advance for any run-on sentences.
So here we go. This is Grocery Store Guy.
While living in Wausau, I had a habit of going to Barnes & Noble after work on Fridays. It was my wind-down time and quite crucial to my happiness. This particular Friday -- a random one in March two years ago, not long after England (where I was proposed to by a drunken Englishman ... but that's another story) -- was like any other. I wrapped up at work and headed for the B, looking forward to my weekly coffee and chat with the baristas.
The other thing to note? I'm in a sweatshirt and jeans. By all means, I am not at my cutest. At all.
I was probably there for half an hour (long enough to finish said coffee) and I hit the road. Now, my trip home involved a drive across a rather long bridge and then an almost-immediate right turn. This is only important because, as I crossed the bridge, I decided I wanted steak for dinner -- so instead of turning, I continued on that road for another half-mile to the grocery store.
[Note: You haven't missed it. Nothing interesting has happened yet.]
I walked into the grocery store at the same time as a random guy. Didn't take any particular notice of him -- it was the grocery store, after all. Instead, I picked up my basket and headed on my way.
Now, this was a grocery store. I had two options. Turn left -- or turn right. I turned right and aimed for the flowers and fresh food. As I paused in front of the pre-bundled bouquets, I noticed the guy hovering a few feet behind me and I distinctly remember thinking, "Oh, he must be in trouble." Sure enough, when I moved on to the produce section, he stepped up and started studying the bouquets.
I made my round and a half (because I never remember everything the first time) and, not surprisingly, caught sight of the guy a couple more times. It was a grocery store. There are only so many ways to get around. (And when you walk in at the same time as someone, you're going to bump into them again. It's just the way it goes.)
I had just picked up a twelve-pack of ginger ale (no, really) and was thinking about what pasta options were in my cupboard at home when he approached me (holding a bouquet of flowers, no less). Following is a transcript of that exchange.
Him: Excuse me.
Me: (Awkwardly stepping aside because I thought I was in his way, then realizing that I was in a wide open area and couldn't possibly be in the way. Next thought was that he was going to ask for help with something, because that happens to me (random strangers asking for help) on roughly a weekly basis.) Yes?
Him: I was just wondering if you happened to be married.
Me: (Obviously not thinking clearly. In many other settings that would have been a red flag. But again -- I was thinking about noodles.) No, no I'm not.
Him: Oh. So no boyfriend then?
Me: (Still stupidly oblivious) No.
Him: (With what was surely supposed to be a winning smile.) Oh, good, because I thought all the beautiful girls in this town were married.
[At this point, I am not ashamed to say I laughed AT him. Sorry guys, but I did. That was a cheesy line. And I was in the grocery store.]
Him: (Still smiling, clearly undeterred.) I don't suppose you're into swinging?
Me: (Suddenly in reality. And astonished. And a little annoyed. In retrospect, it's about time there was a red flag I actually noticed. Also, in retrospect -- doesn't swinging generally require two couples?) Um, no, no I'm not.
Him: (Nodding in an understanding manner.) It's okay, it's not everybody's thing. I don't suppose you'd be willing to show me your breasts?
[Okay, now I'm actually angry. Took long enough, eh?]
Me: No. No I won't.
Him: Are you sure? I'll give you anything you want.
Me: (Thinking: sorry, kid, you have nothing I want.) No. Um, thank you?
And he assured me it was a compliment (while staring at my chest, which was more than a little creepy) and we went our separate ways.
It took a full minute -- by which time I was standing in front of the crackers, trying to decide if I wanted Triscuits or Wheat Thins that week -- before I realized what had just happened. And at that point I dissolved into slighly hysterical, completely creeped-out giggles. Ten minutes later, I got out of there ... with my groceries, after I was sure he was long gone. By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was order a pizza.
Here's the thing: there was nothing outwardly weird about him. By all means, he was a normal-looking guy, and probably a couple years younger than me. Nothing that would raise any normal alarm. But the creepiest part?
I'm pretty sure I caught his attention at the B. Which would mean he followed me to the grocery store.
*Shudder.*
Now, this kind of thing happens ... all the time, actually. Talk to most women in their thirties and odds are good they've got a similar story (heck, I have a couple more like it) ... but they mostly happen in places where women are more likely to have their guards up. Bars. Nightclubs. Vegas.
But this incident bordered on ridiculous. Lucky for me, what was probably a cautionary tale (hey, pay attention, moron) ended up being a moderately funny story. I mean, I was propositioned. In a grocery store. In Wausau. It couldn't have been much more ridiculous. (Maybe if it had been at a Chuck E. Cheese.) And believe it or not, I saw him around town after that -- only when he recognized me, he looked mildly panicked instead of intrigued. Probably a good sign.
And that's the tale of Grocery Store Guy.
However, as it is one of my best stories, most of my family members have heard it, and it contains no actual foul language ... plus I'm reasonably sure I have no young, impressionable readers ... and besides that, it could serve as a warning tale if I do ... I've decided to tell it here.
With any luck, I can write it very closely to how I normally tell it. I apologize in advance for any run-on sentences.
So here we go. This is Grocery Store Guy.
*
While living in Wausau, I had a habit of going to Barnes & Noble after work on Fridays. It was my wind-down time and quite crucial to my happiness. This particular Friday -- a random one in March two years ago, not long after England (where I was proposed to by a drunken Englishman ... but that's another story) -- was like any other. I wrapped up at work and headed for the B, looking forward to my weekly coffee and chat with the baristas.
The other thing to note? I'm in a sweatshirt and jeans. By all means, I am not at my cutest. At all.
I was probably there for half an hour (long enough to finish said coffee) and I hit the road. Now, my trip home involved a drive across a rather long bridge and then an almost-immediate right turn. This is only important because, as I crossed the bridge, I decided I wanted steak for dinner -- so instead of turning, I continued on that road for another half-mile to the grocery store.
[Note: You haven't missed it. Nothing interesting has happened yet.]
I walked into the grocery store at the same time as a random guy. Didn't take any particular notice of him -- it was the grocery store, after all. Instead, I picked up my basket and headed on my way.
Now, this was a grocery store. I had two options. Turn left -- or turn right. I turned right and aimed for the flowers and fresh food. As I paused in front of the pre-bundled bouquets, I noticed the guy hovering a few feet behind me and I distinctly remember thinking, "Oh, he must be in trouble." Sure enough, when I moved on to the produce section, he stepped up and started studying the bouquets.
I made my round and a half (because I never remember everything the first time) and, not surprisingly, caught sight of the guy a couple more times. It was a grocery store. There are only so many ways to get around. (And when you walk in at the same time as someone, you're going to bump into them again. It's just the way it goes.)
I had just picked up a twelve-pack of ginger ale (no, really) and was thinking about what pasta options were in my cupboard at home when he approached me (holding a bouquet of flowers, no less). Following is a transcript of that exchange.
...
Him: Excuse me.
Me: (Awkwardly stepping aside because I thought I was in his way, then realizing that I was in a wide open area and couldn't possibly be in the way. Next thought was that he was going to ask for help with something, because that happens to me (random strangers asking for help) on roughly a weekly basis.) Yes?
Him: I was just wondering if you happened to be married.
Me: (Obviously not thinking clearly. In many other settings that would have been a red flag. But again -- I was thinking about noodles.) No, no I'm not.
Him: Oh. So no boyfriend then?
Me: (Still stupidly oblivious) No.
Him: (With what was surely supposed to be a winning smile.) Oh, good, because I thought all the beautiful girls in this town were married.
[At this point, I am not ashamed to say I laughed AT him. Sorry guys, but I did. That was a cheesy line. And I was in the grocery store.]
Him: (Still smiling, clearly undeterred.) I don't suppose you're into swinging?
Me: (Suddenly in reality. And astonished. And a little annoyed. In retrospect, it's about time there was a red flag I actually noticed. Also, in retrospect -- doesn't swinging generally require two couples?) Um, no, no I'm not.
Him: (Nodding in an understanding manner.) It's okay, it's not everybody's thing. I don't suppose you'd be willing to show me your breasts?
[Okay, now I'm actually angry. Took long enough, eh?]
Me: No. No I won't.
Him: Are you sure? I'll give you anything you want.
Me: (Thinking: sorry, kid, you have nothing I want.) No. Um, thank you?
...
And he assured me it was a compliment (while staring at my chest, which was more than a little creepy) and we went our separate ways.
It took a full minute -- by which time I was standing in front of the crackers, trying to decide if I wanted Triscuits or Wheat Thins that week -- before I realized what had just happened. And at that point I dissolved into slighly hysterical, completely creeped-out giggles. Ten minutes later, I got out of there ... with my groceries, after I was sure he was long gone. By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was order a pizza.
Here's the thing: there was nothing outwardly weird about him. By all means, he was a normal-looking guy, and probably a couple years younger than me. Nothing that would raise any normal alarm. But the creepiest part?
I'm pretty sure I caught his attention at the B. Which would mean he followed me to the grocery store.
*Shudder.*
Now, this kind of thing happens ... all the time, actually. Talk to most women in their thirties and odds are good they've got a similar story (heck, I have a couple more like it) ... but they mostly happen in places where women are more likely to have their guards up. Bars. Nightclubs. Vegas.
But this incident bordered on ridiculous. Lucky for me, what was probably a cautionary tale (hey, pay attention, moron) ended up being a moderately funny story. I mean, I was propositioned. In a grocery store. In Wausau. It couldn't have been much more ridiculous. (Maybe if it had been at a Chuck E. Cheese.) And believe it or not, I saw him around town after that -- only when he recognized me, he looked mildly panicked instead of intrigued. Probably a good sign.
And that's the tale of Grocery Store Guy.
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