I live in such an idealistic world, I’m surprised I’m as logical and sensible as I am sometimes.
Usually at night, before I go to work, I stop by the 7-Eleven by my house. Last night, I was there getting my daily dose of unhealthy caffeine when, as I was walking inside, I noticed a guy inside his car watching me. Next to him was an adorable little boy wearing a baseball outfit, getting out of the car. The man followed him and we all walked inside. As I walked through the aisles of the store, I kept noticing his eyes on me. And every time we would make eye contact, he would look away and blush.
I finally got to the coffee counter and poured myself a cup. He walked up to the other side of the counter, facing me, and proceeded to get his cup as well. It was awkward (as is the norm in my life); every time we would look up, each one would catch the other looking. I decided he was cute. Brown hair, dimples. The kid getting a slurpee – possibly a son? I crossed my fingers for a younger brother.
We paid for our cup and walked to our cars. I took my time, placing the coffee in the holder, turning on my iPod, and starting the car. Then I heard a knock on my window. It was him.
“Hi.” Such a simple word. Such a simple greeting. We began to talk and I got his number. Before I pulled away, I saw him smiling at me from inside his car. I smiled back. I waved bye, then left.
HA. I wish. Like I said: I live in an idealistic world. Proof that one day, my naivety would finally get me abducted or robbed or killed. Seriously. This man could have been a rapist. It was 11 at night. Smiling at strangers is what gets you murdered. Does that stop me? Of course not.
Anyway, what really happened was I walked inside, and he just watched me. The creepy kind of watching, yes, but also ideally cute. You know, this is how movie characters meet. Although we didn’t exchange greetings, if this were a movie (and of course in my head, it is), we’d end up crossing paths later. I got my coffee and walked back to my car, and he just watched me. I could tell he wanted to say hi or something; every time I made eye contact, he’d look away or pretend to be changing the station in his radio. He’d be embarrassed and smile to himself. He was working up the courage to say something. At least that’s what I tell myself. It was cute, in my romanticized version of what happened. In reality, he coulda been sharpening his knife.
This is what I put up with everyday. In my head, reality is bent in exchange for a fantastical experience. Cause really, if it’s not great in my head, it’s not great in my life. And we all know I love greatness.
