So, I’m at the Grocery Store Stalking Men…

The man of my dreams does not eat Fruity Pebbles

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It’s 7:45pm on a Friday night and I’m at the grocery store because I’m out of cat food. This sentence sums up my entire existence as a single person. It’s okay to be jealous.

Having recently publicly stated that I would experiment in trying to meet men in an old school manner, I realized I had a golden opportunity.

Friday night seems like as good of a time as any to meet guys in a grocery store because clearly they have no dates. Like me. My soulmate could be here, fondling mangoes.

I grabbed a cart regardless of my sole planned purchase being a 14 lb bag of IAMS. I was hopeful. For good reason, too.

Once, while shopping in the spice aisle, I recognized a guy I went to high school with. We had actually matched on a dating website. I ghosted him because, for some reason, the fact that we went to high school together weirded me out. I’m a odd bird.

I figured, worst case scenario, he shops there. He’s single. So there’s always Joey from high school…

My grocery store is also the closest one to the neighborhood fire station. Very frequently, an entire herd of fireman ambush the store. A girl could only hope for such a spectacle tonight. When I pulled up, I was deeply saddened by the lack of presence of a fire engine. Nevertheless, I persisted.

Having my fireman laden dreams dashed, I turned the corner of the aisle and noticed a cart. I don’t notice the guy with the cart. Just the cart.

Then I notice the guy walking toward me. He’s adorable. A big tall boy with a nice beard. Winner, winner, store rotisserie chicken dinner!

I smile. Then I walk right passed him. I have no idea what I’m doing. None.

I head to the pet food aisle because I now realize I am conspicuously pushing an empty cart around a store. Having my one item in my cart now, I can proceed with visually validating to everyone that I have turned into a crazy cat lady. Well done, me.

Turns out, grocery stores are horribly depressing on Friday night.

The liquor aisle is the place to be though, folks! All kinds of people grabbing refreshment to fan the flames of their dumpster fire work work!

Okay, not exactly the people I want to meet. Loads of wedding rings. I checked.

After a good lap around the actually desolate store to check for eligible bachelors, I realize I have wine and a couch at home and immediately want to be there.

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I head to the checkout and see the cute bearded guy. Eureka! Cute bearded guy has a roommate with him it seems. Or a same gender partner. Who knows.

I have realized grocery store men stalking critical mistake:

Pro tip: If you are trying to meet dudes in a grocery store have more than one item to buy, you underplanning dork!

I can’t get in line behind them because it makes no sense. Self checkout is eminent. Thanks for ruining my night, corporate efficiency manager.

As I pass them, ready to smile and perhaps strike up a conversation, I notice the contents of their cart. I stopped in my tracks and started laughing. Loudly. Like, hold your belly kind of laughter.

The contents of their cart include:

  • Two gallons of milk
  • Two large size bottles of Captain Morgan
  • 5 2-liters of Diet Dr. Pepper
  • A dozen or so boxes of Kraft Mac and Cheese
  • Three boxes of Fruity Pebbles
  • Lots of Doritos
  • Two tubs of margarine

They are now looking at me. I don’t care. I have realized my dream man does not eat Fruity Pebbles. They are smiling. I approach anyway because we could be friends. I want to hang out with them and watch whatever sporting event is on while eating Doritos and drinking rum and Diet Dr. Peppers. I won’t though because that sounds like the beginning of a really bad porno.

I tell them that they are winning at life and have made me completely reevaluate my entire life. They are super proud of their cart. But, cute bearded guy is quick to point out that they have eggs. And not just eggs. The good, organic, fresh farmed, brown eggs. And romaine lettuce. Because you can’t put shit in your body.

Clearly, the eggs and lettuce are a rouse. Part of me wonders if that isn’t single chick bait. Have I fallen into my own trap? Oh God.

So, attempt #1 is an epic failure but I got a great laugh. Lesson learned: trying to meet people in public require careful planning and well thought out strategy. I was ill prepared for my grocery store excursion.

Next time, when I stalk men in the self help section of Half Price Books, I will be better prepared. And hopefully not creepy. No promises.

Written by

Flaming pinball, nerd, music lover, wine snob, horrible violin player. No, I won’t stop taking pictures of my drinks. IG: vanessaltorre

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