And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Tears

I was in Whole Foods today and noticed, in addition to the abundance of gorgeous produce, there was also a nice selection of good looking 40-something men. While resisting the urge to inspect for bruising and mushy spots, I couldn’t stop myself from my usual ritual of checking for the tell-tale ring on the left hand.  If it’s there, I smile and move along to the kale. But if it’s not, I sneak a second glance and hope I remember how to flirt. My line today was, “They sure have a lot of yummy cheese here! It’s my favorite local place for cheese!” Okay, did those words just come out of my mouth, or was it some bad audio coming out of someone’s iTouch?! He actually smiled back, and made his own cheese related quip, which, to be honest, I didn’t even hear because I was busy dissecting what I had just said. I smiled a flirty smile, and laughed a flirty, “Uh huh, totally!” before taking off to the wine section, hoping he might follow. He didn’t.

I then proceeded to search for him, going up and down each isle, until I realized he must have left. This is when it happened. I started to cry. Not the plaintiff wailing kind. Just the tears-welling-up-in-the-corners, I-look-like-I-just-went-swimming variety. (Did I mention I’m in menopause, and recently divorced, and prone to emotional outbursts?). As the tears surged up and splashed out, I headed back to the wine section to pick something out for real, and thought I’d made some small progress by at least making an attempt, reaching out. Maybe next time, I will give a squeeze…

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