Military strategy is a collection of sciences that govern the conduct of warfare, one being tactics, the execution of plans and maneuvering of forces in battle. I have not served in the military, but I can tell you I have used the strategy of tactics in the art of avoiding men I have dated when out in public more times than I can count.
Last night I practiced the art of employing my tactical maneuvering ability within the isles of Albertson’s grocery store. Why is it, I ask you, that when I feel my worst, or am dressed in my oldest sweats, or I’ve just run out the door without make-up with my hair looking like Phyllis Diller's, that I manage to run into a guy I used to date? I could save myself a lot of anguish if I always dressed my best, looked my best and never left the house looking like Brian’s dog drug me around by my hair on the kitchen floor, then I would never ever see any of the guys I have dated.
I bet you that I could win 40 million dollars in the lottery, drive everywhere in my new Porsche with George Clooney at my side and never ever ever ever (did I type ever?) ever run into a guy that knew me when I drove that wood paneled pinto. Life just doesn’t work that way for me.
Why, I have no idea.
Last night I decided to pick up a few quick groceries at Albertson’s because it is near Brian’s football practice. I usually prefer a smaller market in the middle of town which is fast (and I don't see men I know). I was in old jeans, tennis shoes, and an old sweatshirt. I spent the day hiking 5 miles and moving office furniture around, so my hair was a mess and I didn’t have make up on my face. I have pale ruddy Irish skin, which would look creamy great if I lived in the dense fog and damp, but in sunny California, it makes my skin look more like a spotted slug. So let's just say, I am a girl that looks better with make-up on.
I dash into Albertson’s, grab a cart and race for my few 8 or less items. It will be the quick check-out for me. I am almost done shopping, when I think “Maybe Brian would like roast beef sandwiches” and turn my cart toward the Deli section. I round a corner heading straight for the Deli and glance up ahead, suddenly I slowly focus on a guy saying something to his young son. The man turns his head revealing the side of his face. My heart leaps out my mouth and falls on the floor, rolling ahead of me. Oh Shi*, it’s Oscar... I am about to bump right into a guy I dated some time ago.
I think there should be an Olympic event for grocery cart maneuvering speed time, because last night would have won me the gold medal. In just under a second from face recognition to body response, I veered my cart a quick hard right and ran up the isle away from Oscar with a fast walk-run, trying not to be noticed. It's like I wanted some new Newton's theory of mass to render me invisable because I turned my back on the target at hand.
One problem, when forced to do such a maneuver, I am now at the back of the store, with Oscar and checkout at the front.
Besides the issue of how I look, I don’t want to talk to this guy more than the I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to be nice to him. I am angry with him, and want to be rude. When I want to be rude, I want to be in a suit with make up. Just call me a weird girly-girl that way.
So there I was, stuck at the back of the store when Bob, the very gay and very fun grocery checker comes out of the back “Hi Doll” he says. “Hi”. Bob looks at my face, “What’s the matter hon?” He comes closer. I explain my dilemma. He smiles, “Well doll I am about to take over quick check out. Come with me and I will check you out first. If you spot him let me know and I’ll create a diversion. Is he cute?” There is nothing like getting one’s gay grocery clerk involved in shopping tactic maneauver strategy. He grabs the front of my cart “Worst case, if you run into him tell him you’ve found happiness and have become a lesbian. Say it is his fault,thank him and walk away,” he laughs. I laugh back as he pulls me safely through the store to the front.
I give him a description of Oscar and he watches my back as I quickly get checked out and pay for my items. With everything bagged in my cart with no Oscar in site, we high 5 and I race out the door. There is a triumpth one feels when sucessfully avoiding someone that was once a part of one's life. I felt like someone should have handed me a blue ribbon.
As I throw the items on my front seat, it dawns on me that I need to date in another town. Or better yet, move to another town ... even better ... another state. OIY. I only hope all the manuevering burned an extra 50 calories.
Do I really have to date?
Until next time-
C
