I went to the supermarket recently for my weekly shopping trip, one of the few wifey activities I dread. Before I get into my supermarket ordeal, I should mention that Something About Small Talk and picking out tomatoes makes me die a little. It’s gotten to the point where I smell, poke and squeeze them, and still pick a crappy one. Why God? Why make a “fruit” that’s so complicated? and the whole fruit thing? I’ve chosen not to believe it. Back to the story. So, there I was hanging out in the produce section, when another young lady started picking out tomatoes right next to me. In a panic, I asked her if she could help me select a winner. She did and I thanked her. As I was proudly bagging my tomatoes, the young lady noticed and complemented my ring. I love when that happens! So I smiled of course, said thank you and went about my business. She then asked me when I got married. Clearly she wanted to be friends and didn’t notice that I had used her solely to pick out produce, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I answered her and got into a little convo about newlywed life. It’s one of my fave topics you know and there’s just Something About Small Talk
Anyway, we talked, laughed, and then she asked me what my favorite part of marriage was. Ummm…Jeez, why was produce girl getting so deep? At this point, I felt a tinge awkward, but obligated to answer. I mean she helped me pick out a tomato, which in the supermarket world, is the equivalent to giving me a kidney. Damn supermarket politics! Anyway, I answered generally, with, “You know, having your best friend as part of your team is always great.” Hallmark card answer, but hey, I didn’t have time to fraternize. The next stop was the canned food aisle and I needed to have my gameface on.
She replied with, “Yea I agree. I love getting flowers everyday.” I kind of stood there in shock and asked, “Everyday?”, and without any hesitation, she answered “Yes. Everyday. AND… he always reads the newspaper to me when we sit down for breakfast.” Umm WEIRDO! What romantic comedy had I walked into and who was this freak?! Who reads newspapers now days? I felt like saying, “Randy and I do that too, but we read the news on this super crazy thing called the internet.”
Anyway, I tried to listen patiently, but she went on and on about how they met and how awesome her and her hubby are. I felt oddly competitive. While she was obviously deranged, I needed to tell her about my amazing marriage, but we just aren’t weird like that. Don’t get me wrong, we have our corny moments, but not in a chick flick kind of way. I needed to come up with something. I had nowhere else to turn…
Produce girl: So how did you guys meet?
Me: So I went on a vacation with my family and met Randy there. He was a dance instructor and he taught me how to dirty dance. Romantic times. We had the time of our lives and we never felt like that before. Yes I swear, it’s the truth…
I clearly talked myself out of lying. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Every relationship is different, and while produce girl sings Sinatra’s greatest hits to her hubby while sitting in a bubble bath, Randy and I sit at home and watch 666 Park Avenue, an American supernatural drama series. I mean romance is romance, don’t you think?
Long story short, the tomato she picked ended up being a gross one, just like her. Ah…that felt good.
“No one put’s baby in the corner,”