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Thursday, December 9, 2010


He is following me. I noticed him about fifteen minutes ago entering the store after I had parked my Subaru in Walmart's parking lot. Meandering in and out of aisles at a relaxed pace, I did not really notice him visually, but I could feel his presence lurking behind my steps. Every now and then, he would come the opposite way down the aisle, and as our carts almost were past each other, our eyes would lock, and he'd give me that slight all-knowing smirk. I could not help but to grin in secretive delight.
Jordan and I do this a lot. Maybe it's the underlying actor in both of us, but we purposely ignore each other while we're shopping, pretending we are complete strangers in this giant abyss of groceries. Amid the Campbell's Chicken and Rice soup and Lipton's iced tea mix, Jordan and I share glances and smiles as the people around us are oblivious to our mischief.
Sometimes we'll cause a scene. Well, perhaps I should say I sometimes cause a scene. One time, when Jordan had forgotten to empty the garbage, even though I'd asked him three or four times to do so during the course of the day, I lost it. I told him I was going shopping, grabbed my keys, and stormed out of the house. Of course, because of the type of man he is (an amazing one), he followed me there to try and talk to me on the stage of our performance. I believe, in this instance, Jordan underestimated me; perhaps he thought a public location would be the best place to approach me, only to swiftly grab me and kiss me, to tell me he'd emptied the garbage before he followed me and that he would never, ever let it happen again.
What he did not consider was the fact that I was in my element; the gray concrete floor of Walmart was my stage, and that night my role was the Crazy Bitch. When I saw him coming down the bread aisle (which I'm sure all of you know is one of the busiest damn aisles in the entire store, and that day was no exception), I immediately could tell he was also playing a part. I read his face: prince charming finally there to claim his prize. Sorry Jordan, not happening today. My stubbornness kicked in, even though I knew that him forgetting to empty the garbage was really not that big of a deal.
I snatched a loaf of rye bread off of the shelf, the kind with the crunchy crust and hid it along my right side. While people shopped all around me, I made my way down through the aisle, palms getting sweaty from my anticipated plan, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead at the Deli sign. Jordan, who was staged as an innocent bystander pondering whether to purchase whole wheat or twelve grain, gauged when my cart would be passing, and purposely took a step back into it to bump me off course, to alter our fates.
"I- I am s-so sorry, miss," he stammered. Great, he's pulling out the stuttering accent as well. God, I'm going to look like a bitch when I do this.
Before he could continue his premeditated lines, I swung the loaf of bread by my side into the side of his head, and continued to beat him with it. Jordan threw his hands up in anticipation of the blows, but never said my name; he realized, deep down, this had beating had reason, but right now, it was a performance.
After a few blows, I suddenly realized that every eye was on me, now holding a very battered loaf aloft in my right hand. Somehow managing to keep a straight face, I gently placed my weapon back in his rightful place, leaned into Jordan and whispered, "Maybe that will teach you to take out the garbage when I ask." With this, I left the aisle and abandoned my cart, nearly empty. As I walked toward the exit, I could feel several pairs of eyes on me, and suddenly a pair of hands. Oh my God, someone called security. I'm going to be arrested for beating someone with a loaf of bread. Could that be a felony?
Suddenly I realized the person who was dragging me out of the store was laughing, and I turned my head to see Jordan linking his arm with mine. Standing in the parking lot of the supercenter, we dissolved into laughter at what had just occurred. He pulled me in close, our breaths fogging in the winter air and said, "That was so funny, I think I may forget the trash everyday now on." And with that, we both got in our respective cars, only to drive home and well...make up.
Three years later, and we were still going strong with our shopping performances. I'm not entirely sure what sparked this odd phenomena, but what fed it to continue were the looks on people's faces. Jordan and I both knew that we had to be the topic of numerous dinner conversations.
Today, I actually shopped for the purchase of shopping, which I told Jordan I was doing after work. I honestly was not anticipating him to follow me there, and one might laugh, but when I saw him at the opposite end of the condiments aisle, my heart jumped a bit in my chest. Jordan and I have been together now for five years and just recently got engaged. I could not think of another person I would want to spend my life with. Anytime our eyes catch each other, there is a palpable fire present. Even in the grocery store, when Jordan 'accidentally' brushes my arm, and smiles that smile that shows all of his dimples, the one where people can't help but notice what they think is love at first sight, my heart beats slightly more rapidly. People think we are crazy when we tell our tales, but I don't mind. To me, we're just reminding everyone that love can be around any corner, even between the bread and the condiments.


  1. Great little story! You paint a picture with words. And is there a congratulations in order or is this fiction!

  2. Thank you very much! This is partially fiction with a little bit of reality mixed in here and there. :). Mostly fiction, but my boyfriend and I do like to pretend we don't know each other sometimes just to see people laugh. No congratulations needed yet! :)