I GOT HIT ON!

It was a dark and stormy night.  I sauntered down the isles in search of sustenance.  Turning slowly, I saw him, young virile man with dark hair, deep set eyes and a dark complexion.  He looked up and I met his gaze.  Blushing I turned away, yet he walked toward me. In a deep voice he said “I am looking for something to dip this in. What would you suggest?” He flashed his dimples and my heart raced. His smile was intoxicating. I wanted to say so many things.  My hair cascaded over my brow as I looked down...... 

OK, this is not really how it went but when I replay it in my head that is what happened.  

Here is the real story.  It was a long day home with the family.  We were all off due to Hurricane Sandy.  We weathered out the storm at my parent’s house and had returned home after the storm.  That evening I realized that we did not have any bread and I needed something for my Little One to wear to school the next day that would make him look like a farmer.  His class was having a fall celebration and they were to dress as farmers.  I also needed candy for Halloween which was also the next day.  I am not the most organized of people, but throw in 2 days of chaos due to an unprecedented hurricane and my procrastination becomes a bother.  

I ran to Walmart for cheap candy, bread and a toddler’s farmer hat and boots. The store was empty as it was 7pm and so many people had stocked up before the storm that no one needed anything.  The Halloween costumes were few and far between, but I went to the toy section and found the perfect dress up cowboy hat and boots.  We had a flannel and jeans at home.  Next was the candy isle.  HA! what a joke, the only things left were the small bags of m&ms, KitKats, Snickers and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, or as I like to call them “pure heaven for your mouth.”  So I reluctantly stocked up on the small bags then ran and got the bread. Done in record time.  

I ran back home put the stuff away and when I opened the fridge I realized that we had about 4 oz of milk in the one gallon milk container that was in there.  I opened my mouth and my father’s voice came out saying “Who does this???!!!”  This was something my father said on a daily basis when I was growing up.  When he would attempt to empty the ice trays into the bin and the trays would be half full, when he would walk into the bathroom and the floor was soaked because we didn’t dry ourselves BEFORE getting out of the shower, when the cap to the toothpaste was left off...I could go on, but you get the idea.  

I look at the couch and see The Hub, First Born, Little One and the dog all sitting there mesmerized at the History Channel’s “The Men Who Built America.”  At the commercial the Hub looks up.  

Exasperated, I say “I have to go to the Giant. We have no milk.”

The Hub: “Weren’t you just out? You are going out again...right now?”  

Me: “Yes, I want cereal, so I am running out the Giant now.  Can you please get those two in bed, they both have school tomorrow and since we have been at my moms for 2 days and they need a good nights sleep.”

The Hub: “Ok, hey did you know that Rockerfeller may have CAUSED the Johnstown flood? He also was responsible for bankrupting the Railroad industry! AND he and Carnegie hated each other!”  

Me: “Hub, FOCUS!  You can watch this at any time, we have Hulu and a DVR.  Please get the kids ready for bed, I will be right back. Is this show appropriate for kids?”

The Hub: “It’s HISTORY!  History is always appropriate!”

At this I leave.  Back in the car, back to the store.  A different one this time.  

The Giant is my go-to store.  I know this place like the back of my hand and can navigate the isles with ease.  I realize that I should also get some more lunch meat and some night time pull ups for the Little One.  He keeps the pull ups dry every night, but the minute I put underwear on him at night, he pees the bed.  It must be a security thing.  Then I decide that after the milk I should get OJ since we are running low and the kids will most likely be sick soon. 

I dart through the isles and as I am making my way out I was in the dairy isle and I see a handsome young man looking perplexed.  I walked by him and he walked toward me holding out some pita bread, asked me what I would use as a dip for that kind of bread. 

I told him, “I like cheese.  Anything dipped in cheese always tastes good but if your are  going to melt the cheese on the stove, pour a little milk or cream in while stirring it so it doesn’t get all clumpy. OH you may want to try a Jalepeno pepper jack to spice it up.”

He was smiling at me and said, “that is great advise, I like the way you think. What else would you suggest?”  

I said, “Well, if you want to go a little healthier, you could get some extra virgin olive oil and put some rosemary, basil, a little garlic and some pepper in it.  That is always good, healthier and much easier.  But don’t go getting that dry seasoning, get the fresh rosemary and basil.  It makes all the difference in the world.”  

He seemed impressed saying “Wow, I like you. You really know your food, that sounds delicious.”  

At this point I got very self conscious.  He was CUTE and seemed very young, maybe in his 20s!  He was listening intently to everything I was saying.  Looking me in the eye, smiling!  He actually looked like my husband, with his dark complexion, a goatee and deep dark eyes.  MY husband... who was at home with my boys.  I suddenly felt guilty.  

Then I realized the scenario.  I looked at myself. Here I was, un-showered, hair pulled back in a bandana, no makeup, wearing 2 day old jeans, my Chuck Taylor’s, and a t-shirt that had at least one coffee stain right down the front.  I was a 40 year old mom of 2 who was giving food advise to a young college kid.  I probably reminded him of his mom.  At this realization, I smiled at this young man and started to laugh.  He looked confused.  

I just said, “Well, babe, I gotta get going.  Good luck with your dip! Have a great night!”  He thanked me again and flashed those dimples.  

I shook my head walking out of the store.  The initial feeling of being hit on made me feel like, 'I still got it!'   It felt good, and I do 'still got it' to an extent. Although maybe not in this scenario.  

So I tell myself that he was hitting on me and if I stood there and talked to him a little longer he would have invited me to his dorm room to try out his bread and dip!  That may not be reality, but it is what I am telling myself..... and everyone else!