Tales of Summer

Random Sex and Violence and Ramblings

To start off, let me just say that - I have a hit show!!! It was very well received and everyone raved. Wow. I'm a happy boy.

Now not all of the weekend was spent in theatrical reveling. I actually did get to go out and relax as well. Nothing overly remarkable, just a normal late night with the boys.

Sunday, I was at the supermarket, feeling a touch hungover and tired from the past two weeks' strain. Now I never ever pay any attention to the people around me in the store. I usually want to just get in, get stuff, and get out. I was cruising the meat, meat case that is, totally engrossed in reading labels. I reached for some pre-cut chicken to use for soup/stew, and just as I did, the person next to me grabbed my package. Of chicken.

That really threw me. I have never had anyone invade my space at the market let alone grab my meat. Ummm, poultry. As I turned to give this guy a few choice pieces of my quickly deteriorating brain, I was staring straight into the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen. Okay, this week anyway. The gorgeous eyes lived above a gorgeous sheepish smile. As he started to apologize, I realized I no longer had the capacity to speak. But as the words refused to stream confidently out of my mouth, words from everywhere screamed through my brain. Why oh why didn't I....shower, shave, match my outfit, come here in the first place?

It only took a few seconds but the brain shut off the voices. Except for his. Those deep resonant syllables quickly made me melt. I said-okay grunted-something in response, and started to run away before I could in any further way completely humiliate myself. I turned, and ran straight into his cart. Oh dear lord could I be any more of a sitcom character?

He apologized again. I said something in some language, Klingon I think, pushed the cart out of my way, and took off for safer parts of the store. Okay by now, you can probably guess what happened. Yes, I came around a corner, and ran smack into him. Literally. He apologized. Again. I said something in return, Swahili I believe. I was about to run again (wishing teleportation was an option) when he gently grabbed my arm and insisted that I let him buy me a coffee to calm down. I think he said, "repay me for the damage", but by that point, I needed to calm down. But I managed to find a more suitable language that he seemed to comprehend, thanked him, declined the offer, and was about to drop my purchases and run for the door. And at that moment every sound in the world was silenced. Except for his voice. His lips actually formed the words, and his breath propelled them out of his mouth, "I think you're cute".

Sweet Ally McBeal.

Later, after a shower and an hour primping, I called him. I got his voicemail. I simply said bravely into my phone, "How did you know?" That evening he text-messaged me. "Your shirt. Call me."

And there, on the back of my bathroom door, hung my "Boys will do Boys" t-shirt.