You worked in a chemist,
I worked in a cafe’,
You’d come in for breakfast,
I’d spit in your coffee,
So that every time you kissed me,
I’d satisfy your craving.
Based on a true story.
Of course… I have to walk past a flower shop. The line is out the door. Lovers, all scrambling for a handful of plant genitalia before the sun goes down. A symbol of their desire to blindly perpetuate another obligation based holiday. An attempt to grasp an orgasm that isn’t self inflicted. Am I jealous? Of course I fucking am. I swallow it, as I slip between them, a semi permeable membrane of everything I don’t have.
The fluorescent lights of the supermarket burst through my depressing inner dialogue and drag me back to reality. Back to the job at hand. My purpose. I’m here to buy ingredients. A meal for one.
With the basket in my hand I navigate the isles, throwing in this and that. Wondering if the checkout girl is going to judge me, based on my purchases. I scan the baskets of fellow shoppers. Trying to spot the ones going home to their family. The ones making a romantic dinner for two. Am i jealous? Of course I fucking am.
My arm aches, the basket heavy with comfort foods and regret. I scan the exits, trying to pick a checkout that won’t trigger an obvious anxiety attack. It’s for this reason i avoid Stephanie, the checkout girl I’ve been secretly in love with for the past four years. I settle on a new girl, increasing the chances that she hasn’t heard any workplace stories about me. The guy who always shops alone. Who’s always got headphones on. Who never says a word.
I stand in line, placing my items on the conveyor belt of judgment. The customer in front of me collects her bags and exits, no doubt back to whatever perfect life I imagine she has.
“Hello” says the girl at the checkout, clearly not yet worn down by the onslaught of customers.
“Hello.” I mimic, pretending that i understand how to converse with strangers.
She comes back at me, saying “How are you today?”
I try “I’m good, thanks. How are you?”
“I’m very well.” she says. And then there’s silence. She effortlessly scans the barcodes over the red laser. “So…” she says, “This is pretty much your typical bachelor diet, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” i say smirking, attempting to be affable, “pretty much.”
And then there’s silence.
I’m about to say “Are you doing anything special for valentine’s day” but I don’t. I wish i had. I look down at my money and count it for the hundredth time, biting the inside of my cheeks and wishing the linoleum floor would collapse under the weight of my awkwardness and bury me.
“That’s twenty four dollars and fifty five cents” she says, handing me a rope.
I count my money one last time and place it in her hand. She smiles at me and I smile back. She hands me my change as says to me “Have a nice day.”
I look her in the eye and smile and say “you too.”
She smiles back.
I collect my bags and walk out the door, past the lovers and the flower shop. Dodging cars and trying not to make a bigger fool of myself. Then it occurs to me; When she said “This is pretty much your typical bachelor diet” she wasn’t judging me for the food i purchased. She was asking “So do you have a girlfriend? If not, would you like to be my valentine?” And when i said “yeah, pretty much.” I was actually saying “I would love to be your valentine.” and lifting her up into my arms and kissing her on the lips. It was a valentines day love story, hidden amongst a menial errand. The story that Romeo and Juliette so arrogantly overshadowed. It’s not exactly the sort of thing you’d write a book about, but I think it deserves a mention.
By the way, Passive Aggressive is both a line from one of my bits, and it’s an overall commentary on my way of pushing back against these societal norms that I feel inner obligation to live by. We’re not like they told us we were supposed to be and we’re not wrong. What they told us was bullshit. We can do whatever makes us happy and it doesn’t matter who looks down on us. We’ll look down on them just as hard. Really? You’re 24 and you’re already married with 2 kids? Kill yourself. -Ari
buy his special here :) : http://chill.com/arithegreat/passive-aggressive
Merry Christmas to my four followers. You are all lovely and wonderful and I would totally trust you to hold my drink while I went to the bathroom. May the second coming of Robot Jesus lay waste to your enemies and avoid crushing your house with his gargantuan robotic sandals of repentance. ♥ shamp
A “Get Well Soon” Card, two weeks too late. Get well two weeks before you recieved this card, Miss Pickles. ♥ shamp