Next Time

So I'm shopping.  I don't want to be shopping, especially for food.  I tend to shop small and have for a long time now, I hate loading a cart of all the things I’d need for the two weeks, much of which I don’t need and will go bad before I eat it, so I use one small carry basket or, better yet, one cloth shopping bag, because Eugene Oregon doesn’t allow plastic bags in stores anymore, that's a good thing, save the planet and all that.  

I fill the bag, and let me give you some back story.  My teen kid and I discovered that a man who works there looks very much like an actor from a TV show we used to watch.  This man is younger than the actor, I think, but it makes no difference, they could be twins or brothers.  His voice is different, so different that when he speaks it's off putting because, damn it, he looks just like this actor!  Shouldn't they sound the same too?

At first we'd seen him stocking shelves and then in the quick self-serve checkout lines.  Well, today I didn’t see him, I wasn’t in the store at my usual time so maybe that was it, not that it matters, and keep in mind that I don't actually care if I see him, he's just pretty.  I have fun spotting him and enjoy wondering if he has noticed us since we frequent the store and see him so often.

It’s not a lot different from the other employee that we lovingly refer to as Clark Kent, except, maybe, the earthquake sized attraction factor of exhibit A.

I feel like he has noticed our frequent near encounters based on what it feels like when recognition hits with anyone else and because gradually he seems to have made a pinch more effort in smiling and saying “have a good day” as we or I leave the store.  He makes more eye contact.

There is also the fact that I see him at many different hours, it’s almost like these random encounter are not random at all, pfff, because sometimes I come in early  before work to grab breakfast and other times I’m in there in the early evening or even late at night and I always see him.  He can’t possibly work there 24 hours a day, so how do we keep running into each other?  He schedule must be pretty random or at least rotate for us to see him at those different hours.

Now it could be completely random and I have no problem accepting that, however, I am perfectly pleased to daydream that it’s not and that maybe, for some galactic reason, we are meant to notice each other and eventually talk.

Whatever the reason, maybe something he says will inspire a story, maybe something I say will do something for him.  Who knows.  I don’t need to know.

Sooo, I don’t see him on this shopping trip, I’m disappointed but not so much that I write about it in a blog or anything.  It really is just a fun and spirit lifting event to see him.

The self-serve lines are packed and I slowly roam down the way looking at each of the other checkouts one at a time.  I pause behind each new lane for a few seconds only to move on because of its long line or there is an immense mass of product being loaded on a the belt.  Despite those obstacles, it didn't take long before I settle into a checkout, I wait, and wait, and then I move down a lane one last time.

I’m looking down, I’m fiddling with the sleeves of my jacket that keep falling, and I keep shifting my bag and jug of milk between hands.  The line moves, I look up, and holy shit, the hot movie star man is attending my lane!  Holy Shit.

I could not have planned it better, I’m in mild shock and a secret grin sprouts across my lips.  I’m so close to placing my items onto the belt when I’m sure he is about to notice me, and then, and then! the attendant to the lane one space down who has just turned on the open light, tells me he can take me on the next lane.  I don't move.  I do not want to go to the other lane.  He tells the lady behind me to go over as well so I think, cool, I can stay, but he looks at me again like I didn't hear him, or i'm stupid, and he seems to want me to go to his lane so bad, and I don’t want it to look as if I’m deliberately standing in TV hottie’s lane, because I’m not.  I swear, I was not deliberately standing in his lane, because happy accidents happen and it's not my fault!

 There I was about to make our first actual words to one another, which I would have flubbed, and maybe I would have said nothing, but it’s the opportunity I wanted…

I go to the other lane.
I go to the other lane!

Okay, it’s okay, I am now facing the hottie and he is facing me and I think he has noticed me now.  How could he not, right? and I go about my business while stealing glances and I think that he has had to have stolen glances by now too.

I get the feeling he is looking away every time I look up.  He is checking items for someone, that could have been me! and I am loading my stupid bag. 

I talk to my teller so that maybe my voice will carry over and hottie will hear me, know that I’m nice and willing to talk, and I wonder if he thinks I tried and failed to get into his checkout line, even though I didn’t.

I grab my receipt and lift my bags and I know he’s working but I wish he'd look up, right now, but I have to turn, and I can feel his eyes on me, in the completely random way you just know you’re being looked at, and I walk away, passing a slow cart with an older couple attached to it, and I take a wide turn through the door and somehow I always walk fast as if with purpose and motivation, as if I feel this is a more attractive way to walk.

I open the door to my car and one-arm-lift the heavy bag into the passenger seat, feeling a grin radiate within me, I want to text someone about it but I don’t.  I know that next time I see him I will have to say something.

I will have to.
Next time.

As great as that was, I kick myself, really hard, each time I go back because I have not seen TV hottie since that day.
Why, WHY didn't I stay in his lane.

But it's okay, I still have Clark Kent's clone on isle five.