A few weeks ago I picked up a phone number at the grocery store.
I didn’t think that happened anymore either. I thought if you saw someone at the grocery store you liked, you snapped a picture of them and started a Reddit thread asking if anybody knew that person, and then the local news channel would pick up the story, and ABC6 would feature your first date at the Applebee’s on 44th Street.
But yes, I picked up a number at the grocery store, or he picked up mine, considering he started the conversation after he heard my ringtone.
1). We shared an interest in Archer.
2). He was hot in that “Just hanging out at the grocery store in my gym shorts” kind of way.
We were on the right track. Over the next few days as we text messaged random babble back and forth to each other, he mentioned that he was an elementary school teacher, and I was like I already want to make out with you there’s no reason to make up lies.
But at some point we just…. stopped texting each other. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by firing off some “what the fuck?” message. So I let it go.
You’d think I’d have stopped gawking at people in the grocery store.
This Sunday I was looping the grocery store with nothing but a gallon of milk in my cart, looking for some obscure type of beans my roommate wanted that can probably only be found at his hippie grocery store, when I spotted this wide-shouldered, glasses wearing, olive skinned guy that hit all the right notes.
I stopped and stared just long enough to witness him shoplift a bottle of aspirin. Nothing gets the blood flowing like scoping out someone’s ass while they commit a misdemeanor. Hot.
I’m done checking out people at the grocery store for awhile.
I’ll stick to picking up strangers at the bar like an adult.