Just Kidding

I ran by my local grocery store tonight to pick up a couple of things for dinner.  While I was standing in line the most GORGEOUS man stepped in behind me and said hello.  He was tall, had dark hair under his baseball hat and wore my favorite navy blue t-shirt that indicates ... FIREMAN.

I almost peed a little.

There were a few people ahead of us that took FOREVER.  Someone wrote a check.  Another one couldn't find their money.  Yet another needed a price check.  To those people, I'd like to take this moment to say THANK YOU.  I also thank whatever presence of mind I had tonight when I picked up a bagged salad instead of the half gallon of peanut butter & chocolate ice cream and box of Cheese-Its that could have happened on any other random Wednesday.

So while we waited through check writers and money forget-ers, I was contemplating how exactly this fireman would become mine.  I calmly reached to the side and picked up the new Portland Monthly magazine giving him not one, but TWO opportunities to talk to me--the large scar from my elbow break that always prompts guys to grab my arm and ask what happened AND the Portland Monthly mag with an article on 48 weekend trips that me and my new firefighter boyfriend could peruse over a glass of wine.  

Neither worked.  

Time to break out the big guns.  

I dropped my phone (and okay, this MAY have been less deliberate and more an act of SSG clumsiness) and he picked it up to hand it to me.  He had strong, big, tan, guy hands.  Which made me SWOON.

"Thanks," I said, maybe with a coy little smile and most likely cheeks blushing waiting for him to say "you know that phone could have broken without you having my phone number, maybe I should get yours in case it happens again."

But THAT didn't work either.

"How's it goin?"  My regular checker, who is always flirtatious, asked.

"Good, how are you guys?"  I asked acknowledging the bagger, who despite bagging my one or 40 items always asks if I need help out to the car.

"Whatcha up to tonight?"  Checker continues.

"Just got to get home for the convention and big game."  I respond--thinking it makes me look not only smart, but also sporty--and big strong man hands future firefighter boyfriend has got to be into ONE of those two things, right?

Still nothing.

Since my new BF was purchasing only 2 limes, which by the way, what does that say about him?Evening of tequila shots with his buddies?  Scurvy prevention?  Salsa maker?  I ALMOST jokingly asked him if he needed help out to his car with those, but thankfully didn't.

Because when he hopped into his Jeep (swoon again) with the firefighter sticker on the back, he had company.  A beautiful blonde waiting for him in the front seat.

But that's okay, I hopped into my own car to the beautiful blonde waiting for me.

Das okayz, da stor guy like u and he hav los f axces 2 cookeez.