Sunday, October 3, 2010

An Affair to Dismember


It happened on a Friday night at Trader Joe's. We caught eyes across the produce section and he smiled. I smiled back.

A few minutes later, he appeared next to me, casually perusing Blue cheese. Feta, Goat. Then he looked me up and down and said, "I like your ass."

What? Because even if I had the most amazing Kim Kardashian-type ass, which trust me, I don't, that's not the type of pick-up line I'd hope for. Or expect, especially over cheese at Trader Joe's.

"Your Asics shoes," he repeated, looking down at my feet. "I like your shoes."

Uh, oh, foot fetish cleanup on aisle one.

"I own a shoe shop," he added, "so I notice these things. Asics are great, aren't they?"

Oh, okay, whew.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I got them for hiking and they're the absolute best." When he asked where I bought them, I told him The Walking Store. And then, only because I like to know if I got a deal or not, I threw the question, "How much do you sell yours for?"

"$120," he replied. "Hmmm," I said. "I paid $90."

"Are you sure?" he asked with disbelief. "Was this last year, maybe?"

"Nope," I replied gleefully. Maybe too gleefully. "Got 'em just last month."

"Er, well, I'll have to look into that," he muttered. And then he wished me a good night and walked away.

I might need to hone my flirting skills. Just a bit. At least before I land on my Asics again.
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