Never in Years

Closing your eyes on the treadmill is never a good idea. I don’t know why I did it – I was really into the song I was listening to (Peter Gabriel’s “Here Comes the Flood” if you care.), and I just closed my eyes like I was in some kind of trance. God. This also meant that I almost fell asleep, considering that it was 6 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, and I was running on the treadmill like some kind of fool, given that I was barely awake and also listening to hypnotizing music. Moments later, I was falling off the treadmill and trying to regain some kind of balance and pride. I failed with a resounding “thud,” along with some earbud tangling, sputtering and blushing. I do this a lot.

The day was basically doomed from there. On my way home, the pharmacist tried to ask me out at the grocery store, and I did the unthinkable: I laughed at him. God, it was horrible. I mean, it’s my fault! My fault! He was in front of me in line, wearing his requisite button down and trademark pocket protector (look, I never said he was hot, and also, I am not making that part up. A POCKET PROTECTOR) buying an impressive array of organic items, and I recognized him from my all-too-frequent pharmacy visits and announced: “You’re Johnny Pesky***, the pharmacist! Hi!”

It goes without saying that I only remembered his name because it is the same as a famous Red Sox figure, but seeing as he is not from Boston, how would he know that? I remembered his name, and I think I touched his arm in a friendly gesture and said I really missed seeing him at the store. I might as well have taken my pants off and handed him my underpants.

(I really did miss him, by the way. The new pharmacist is very surly and hateful, and also has a wart on the end of her nose that I can’t stop staring at, but it’s PURPLE, and I can’t help but wonder if she should have it looked at, because seriously? It’s purple, pointy and very angry-looking.)

And then there was talk of how he’s been transferred to another store, blah blah, but he totally remembered me too, and would it be okay if he called me sometime?

And then I just stared at him for a moment, clutching my lone purchase: a Lean Cuisine frozen pizza, which may as well scream “single, dieting and desperate.” And then I panicked, got a burst of nervous energy…and I just laughed at the poor guy. Could I be a bigger jerk? Seriously? But I wasn’t laughing at him, not at ALL, it’s that the whole thing was so…ridiculous, and my fault and also surprising, because again, no one asks me out ever, and why should they, given that I am married and not prone to that sort of thing.

Ugh. And then I panicked again, and desperately tried to explain why I was laughing, which was due to nervous, self-deprecating reasons, nothing to do with him, it’s just that I’m socially inept and also married, and God, the last time someone propositioned me in any way, they were sipping moonshine from a plastic flask and wearing head to toe camouflage while riding the back of a citrus truck, yelling “Hey baby, wanna give me head?” shortly followed by “BITCH!” when I refused to glance in his direction.

It was too late. He was already running out of the store to his Audi A4 (Why am I not a pharmacist?), and I just feel so bad. Also, the pre-pubescent clerk was not helpful, as he gaped at me and said “Wow. Um, that was awkward.” And oh, it was.

Finally, on a far less embarrassing note, I realize that there are only four of us over the age of 21 watching this season’s Real World: Denver, but if you’re not? You’re missing out in a major way, because Brooke is one of the greatest characters in the history of the series. The girl is deliciously insane, and watching her stumble is one of the cruelest, most amusing vicarious experiences I’ve ever had. It’s like she came out of central casting after someone demanded, “Give me crazy! Give me sheltered! Give me irrationally spoiled and weepy!” And I mean that she is so far beyond expectations in these categories even when compared with every other disturbed Real World contestant. She’s wickedly, horribly nuts. It’s fantastic. I’m just saying. Catch the next marathon. You won’t be sorry.

*The Brother Kite, which I can’t stop listening to, thanks to the usual suspect’s suggestion. And now I shall pay it forward.

**edited to say thanks for your comments on the last post. I was a little scared to write that one, because of all the things I outlined. Thus far, I remain flame-free, and instead, feeling a little less irritated by the whole thing, because we’re not alone. Thank you again for being so nice.

***Also not his his actual name. But it was that of a well-known Boston sports figure.

20 comments April 25th, 2007