Drama Queens Should Never Shop Alone

I only went into the damn store to pick up cigarettes. I do it all the time. I really do. I go into that store. All. The. Time. This, was not supposed to happen.

I bumped into my ex in aisle 2. Well, I almost did. I would have if I had taken three steps more. First I should say that I don't normally even go down aisle two, but I reminded myself that I needed bottled water, and I can never remember what fucking aisle it's in, even though I buy it, weekly. It wasn't in aisle two. Anyway...I heard his voice as I was looking down and I snapped my head up fast enough that I was able to dodge behind a display of Christmas shit that hasn't sold yet. Please never remind me when I'm old and gray that I hid from an ex-boyfriend behind a Santa missing an arm and a tooth colored black with a marker, while my nose dripped and I was too scared to make a noise, so I just let it.

There he was, standing there, like we never dated, talking on his cell phone. Didn't we divvy up California after we broke up? I thought so. I still take weekend visits to San Francisco, therefore northern California is mine. He told me he was moving, anyway...What was he doing in my half of the state?

There was something about not being prepared to see him that yanked my insides down and pulled me back behind that decrepit Santa.

He was talking on the phone to someone, laughing every few seconds about some story that I wasn't getting to hear. He pushed his hair back behind his ear and leaned forward, looking in the air, with a slightly annoyed, worried look on his face and trying to improve his reception. It's his new girlfriend on the phone. It's all I could think at the time. It had to be. She was probably telling him all about her day, and babbling on about the most mundane things in the world, and of course he looked absolutely charmed by every syllable that came out of her mouth. Maybe he craves her like that. When she talks, he doesn't float away like he would when I'd talk about some shit that happened at work because he just misses her, that much.

She's probably absolutely perfect, with one of those kick-ass lifestyles. She's smart and talented, with a car. A shiny car that never breaks down. And, um, food always comes out of the oven on time and cooked perfectly. I bet the bitch bakes her own bread. From scratch. Something I've never, ever been able to do. She probably has one of those bodies that bounces back after childbirth (10 times), and she never, ever has to go to the gym. She's just always skinny. She probably always has perfectly crispy clean sheets that she irons, and she recycles everything. Even newspaper. She has the perfect dog that catches Frisbees in the park, instead of my slightly neurotic dog that can't quite grasp the idea of fetch. She gives the best back rubs and blow jobs and never demands that he reciprocate. She doesn't eat much, but when she does, it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen. I bet her name is something incredibly sexy, like Holly, Yvette, or Tiffany. She cums the second he's inside her and she's always left satisfied.

And then it happened, as it often does in these parts. He lost the call. I heard him shout "Hello?!?!" a couple of times before closing the flip phone. The signal must have faded.

Would he call her immediately back? Would he stop the next shopper he saw, demanding to use his or her cell phone to call her back and tell her how sorry he was that they were interrupted? Would he run out of the store, leaving his cart full of perishables to be by her side as soon as possible? What would he do?

He shrugged. Made one of those, 'whatever' faces and shoved the phone back into his pocket. I guess it wasn't Tiffany. Or maybe Yvette doesn't excite him enough that he needs to call her back immediately.

Or maybe, just maybe, he still wished the girl on the other line was me.


Infinite X's and O's...

-SCG