like a (sort of) natural woman

October 1st, 2007

I think I just fell a little bit in love with the guy behind the counter at Whole Earth. I’d stopped in there for ultra-glamorous items such as fast-drying underwear, a clothesline, and long johns, and somehow stumbled on a cashier crush. Monday, I might become a fan.

Quick tangent: Let me just break here to get into the whole fast-drying underwear thing. First, rock on, you clever inventors! You sure saved me some space in my backpack. But for a girl who hasn’t purchased anything but itty-bitty thongs in eight or nine years, the selection process was just plain ugly. Now, I’m what you’d call a lobster (all the meat is in the tail) and that’s why I gave up regular seat covers in the first place. I don’t like buying things in size large. It makes me feel perfectly crappy. Sure, the store gives off a nice Love your body, love the Planet vibe, but you might as well plaster the package with a bright red sticker that says, “Junk in the Trunk!” so the adorable cashier knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Anyway, up I went to the counter with more than I’d come in for (a lock, a quick-dry towel, some very earth lip balm) and the tall, dark, and witty guy at the cash register wanted to know where I’m going with such remarkable purchases. So, we chatted about that. About Italy and how stupidly lucky I am. Then he took my credit card, and asked for ID.

“Ah, New Yorker, huh?”

“Kinda. On and off. Mostly off, now.”

“You know, I have to disagree with people when they say that New Yorkers are rude. I think that if you take the time to understand them, and what it’s like living in all that hustle and bustle, they’re some of the greatest people out there.”

“We are pretty splendid,” I said, with a half-smile. “Until, you know, we’re late for work and you step in front of us with your gigantic map and your stupid fanny pack. Then we get cranky.”

Soon, I’d signed the credit card slip and I knew our time was drawing to a close. How could I tell him what was in my rapidly beating heart? Let’s go away somewhere and make snide, perverse comments about the general population. We could share silly stories and very earthy lip balm and maybe you’d let me wear your leather wristband. Ooh, let’s!

He finished a rant about grocery store idiots and stapled my receipt. My heart said, Let’s go make grocery store enemies together! but my mouth said, “Thanks.”

“Well, I guess, um, have a great day,” he said. “And come back and see us. Soon.”

“I think I just bought every provision I’ll ever need,” I said. “But I’m sure I can invent a reason.”

And then I went out to my car to daydream about our very earthy, very sarcastic babies and how I’d look wearing that wristband.

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