Something happened to me today.
I pulled into a parking spot at Ralph's "Fresh Fare." Eat your heart out, Trader Joe's. Wearing my glasses and no makeup, I was in fine form to buy a cart full of "meals for lonely people." Anyway, as I walked to the front, I saw a young man sitting on the curb outside the store. He could not have been more than 25, and he was very good looking, in my opinion. Decked out in jeans and a North Face jacket, my friends back home would have thought we knew him, and my roommates here would vomit at his "frat appeal."
Like every other time I walk by a boy my age, I acted like I was busy with my phone, kept my eyes down, and tried to head inside as quickly as possible. But then, something happened.
"Excuse me," he said.
The smile was on my face before I turned to face him. I could tell something unusual was happening here. Maybe he was waiting for a friend, who never showed up, and he needed a ride. On the way to his two-bedroom apartment that he shares with a roommate and a dog, we would discuss our shared taste in 70's folk music. He would scoff at the Whitney billboard I made fun of last week. When I dropped him off, he would thank me. Maybe we would exchange numbers, hang out later, and get married down the line. Maybe, this would just be a great encounter to share with my six followers on Twitter. Either way, this was not going to be just another day at Ralph's. I was right.
"Can you spare some change?" he finished.
"Sorry, I can't," rushed out of my mouth, and I busied myself with my phone again and hurried inside.
Somewhere between clearing out the stock of peach Sweet Leaf and deciding between name and store brand versions of frozen fish fillets, I couldn't help but laugh. Then, my mind took off again. If I had given him change, or bought him lunch, we might have struck up a conversation. Maybe he does like 70's folk rock. Maybe he likes peach tea too. If we got married, what would we tell people when they asked us how we met?