I had just gotten back from work, and stopped to buy groceries on my way home. I needed to buy a tin pan for a banana cake I was making, which turned into me buying a myriad of other things I most definitely did not need. I went to Westside Market, because it’s close to my apartment, and I was lazy, and also I apparently love shopping at supermarkets where the paper plates are on a shelf above the butter, and the soy sauce is not in the same aisle as the oil and dressings, and spending 20 minutes looking for tin pans next to the tin foil is a really fun way to drive myself insane, because I guess I find torturing myself after a long day of work to be a solid night activity and also I love to spend $15 dollars on a bag of grapes.
After finally finding the tin pans (they’re above the kosher meat FYI), I realized the only one I needed, the small square, was too far back on the shelf for me to reach. I tried using a different tin pan as a way of hitting the one I needed closer, which was a lot more successful in my head than reality. I then spent too long debating if I should climb on the meat case in heels to try to reach it. These of course were my backup plans, since the first thought I had was maybe the cute guy looking at meat behind me would offer to help, which led me to my second thought which was if this were a movie he would so help me, and we’d start dating and live happily ever after, of course always smiling coyly every time we saw a tin pan or someone reaching for something, which would basically be every time we cooked dinner, which in real life would be rare, because Seamless and also it would get old and un-flirty pretty fast, but in this world it would be frequent and adorable especially since James (did I mention his name would be James or something super sexy like that) would hide love notes in the tin pans or on high shelves for me to find. Which would have been an amazing story for our NY times wedding announcement if James had actually given a shit about me or my tin pans, but Bill (yup- demoting his name) walked away without helping or even glancing at me while I half jumped to try to reach the tins in the least pathetic, most flirtatious way possible, (which if you’re wondering, is a super ineffective way to jump). After Bill walked away and options 2 and 3 failed, I almost asked the 2 guys working in the store who were cutting fish about 2 steps away from me for help, but I refused for a solid 5 minutes. I wish I could say it’s because they were both around my height (which would be totally valid, but I obviously knew they’d climb or get a stool). Ya, that would definitely be way less lame than the fact that I was hoping another James would magically walk by and help. Now, if you’ve ever been to Westside you’ll know this isn’t outside the realm of possibility. In addition to tired moms and old couples, the store attracts some grade A hotties whose baskets are always intimidatingly filled with vegetables and meat. The normal conclusion of the day would be to feel ashamed or pathetic, but honestly the only conclusion I could draw was that chivalry is apparently dead and also it was a huge mistake to assume that the good guys would be home from work at 5:30.