As you've probably noticed, I pretty much spend all my time at work. In consequence, most of the interesting interaction I have with the opposite sex occur when I'm on the clock.
One night, a week or so ago, this really cute guy who works at the supermarket behind the pharmacy I work in, came in to buy some cigarettes on his break. He was tall, tan, sandy haired, and blue-eyed with a smooth, sweet smile, so I promptly melted into an awkward puddle of goo.
I smiled at him, and just checked him out as I would anyone else, because, let's face facts, I suck at flirting. So, imagine the way my heart fluttered when he asked me how my night was going, after we were done with our transaction. Be still my beating heart!
We talked for a few minutes, albeit awkwardly, until the old lady who was passive-aggressively looking at the candy bars made things feel really weird. He told me to have a good night, gave me one last smile (to make sure I was good and melted, I'm sure), and walked out the door.
Apparently, forever, because he hasn't been back. At least not on any of my shifts. Which sucks. Because while I suck at flirting, I'd really like to give awkward small talk with him another try.
By the way, his name was S------, on the off chance that I get to write a sequel to this post. (But I never do, so don't hold your breath.)
Field notes of a serially single girl searching for the most elusive creature known to man: an eligible bachelor.
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