It is a beautiful Saturday afternoon, temps in the mid-70’s, low humidity, sunny with a few white, fluffy clouds in the sky.
I am wearing my fabulous plaid shorts, grey v-neck tee, brown flips with purple-painted toenails and two eco-friendly grocery bags flung over my shoulder.
Walking to the local Acme Supermarket I happen to pass by a craft fair/flea market. Because one of my favorite weekend pastimes is perusing neighborhood fleas and yard sales, I stop to take a gander at the vendors’ wares.
Ahead is a table of silk-screened t-shirts and a gentleman sitting beside it. Glancing over the display my eyes fall upon a familiar television series logo and the word “frak”.
Me: “Battlestar Galactica! I loooove that show!”
Gentleman: “Yeah, I love that show too. I take it you’re a fan then?”
Me: “Oh heck yes! I’ve actually watched the entire series the whole way through twice. I’m kind of a nerd like that. It’s one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.”
Gentleman: “Twice, huh? That’s impressive. Yeah, I’m a bit of a dork too. Here, let me give you my card.”
Gentleman’s t-shirt business is named Geek Boy Press. How apropos.
I look over the rest of the table to see if there are any other Battlestar Galactica references. Instead, I notice another familiar TV series allusion.
Me: “Oh man… Dr. Who?! I gotta tell you, a friend of mine introduced me to the new series last weekend and I was hooked. Later I looked it up on Netflix and the first five seasons are all on instant streaming! I totally geeked out when I saw that. I haven’t been able to stop watching it since.”
Gentleman: “Well, I only have that one Battlestar design, but if you like Dr. Who I have a whole bunch of stuff. Let me show you what I’ve got over here… By the way, what’s your name?”
A handshake and introduction later, the subtle “flirty-flirty” commences. Gentleman is relatively decent looking, in that dorky sort of way. At one point I make a Dalek reference and get a teasing arm tap from Gentleman in return. Game on.
Me: “Well, I’m interested in getting one of these shirts, but I’m on my way to the grocery store. Maybe I’ll stop by on my way back to pick one up.”
(Now ladies, this is a time-tested female flirtation trick– Let me walk away, give you some time to think about me, then I’ll come back and go in for the kill. If you’ve never used this technique, believe me, it works. It also gives us a good reason to come back without looking desperate.)
Me (continuing to babble on): “See, I got this rice cooker the other day and it’s amazing. It does everything for you automatically. All you have to do is push a button. Just the other night I made this rice with tom kha gai soup… oh man, it was so good.”
Gentleman: “Yeah, I’m a bit of a foodie too. This one time–”
Me (completely cutting him off): “Oh no, I’m not much of a cook, but this thing is so easy that it has me wanting to make all sorts of things. I’m actually going to make rice pudding this afternoon. I’m so excited. Anyway, let me run to the store and I’ll come back.”
Brief interlude while I pick up the usuals and a few other items: cereal, half & half, seltzer, broccoli, water chestnuts, bread, frozen popcorn chicken and ice. After paying, I pack the seltzer, ice and frozen popcorn chicken in one bag, and everything else in the other. (This piece of information may seem trivial now, but trust, it will come into play again shortly.)
I walk back to Gentleman’s table.
Me: “Ok, so I think I like the Dr. Who TARDIS shirt the best. What’s the smallest size you have?”
Gentleman: “I have adult small and youth large.”
Me: “Hmmm, can I see the youth large?”
I put my grocery bags down toward the backside of his table, out of the way of other passers-by. Gentleman pulls out the size and I hold it up to myself, but am having a hard time figuring out how well it will fit.
Gentleman: “I think that size would look really good on you. You can try it on right here over your shirt if you like.”
He’s so into me right now and we both know it.
Me (thinking to myself): “Excellent. A chance to get him to think about me putting a shirt on. Another step in the mating dance.”
Me (out loud this time): “Your right, this one fits really well. I’ll take it.”
It is at this moment I notice Gentleman also has the same shirt on. Thankfully, not in size youth large.
Me (teasingly): “Oh look at us, we’re so matchy-matchy. How cute.”
Money is exchanged and we continue the flirtatious banter. Gentleman then looks down at my grocery bags still sitting next to him.
Gentleman: “So what did you get at the grocery store? (Looks in the bag with the ice, seltzer and popcorn chicken.) Water, frozen chicken… Ice?”
Me: “Yeah, I got this iced tea maker for Christmas. I didn’t think I’d be impressed by it, but it makes a really awesome iced tea. I need the ice for–”
Gentleman (this time cutting me off, with eyebrow raised): “Pre-made chicken? Iced tea maker? … So, uhhh, is everything you own automatic?”
We exchange a deflated and insipid look. The conversation dies right there.
Shrinking inside, I wish he had looked in the bag with the broccoli and water chestnuts. It would have made a much better impression.
Me: “Well, thanks for the shirt. Good luck selling your stuff today. Bye.”
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