strangers

I fell in love the other day.

No really.

I did.

We crossed paths while perusing the produce section at the grocery store. I eyed him by his spot near the apples. He was a cute fellow from what I could tell. Roughly my age. No girl by his side. That was good enough for me. Unexpectedly, he looked up, so I averted my gaze to the prepackaged salad bags I should’ve been buying, but wouldn’t buy, to avoid an awkward moment after being caught staring. It felt wrong checking out any and every guy I come in contact with. But how else am I supposed to find the one?

I’m tired of waiting. I want my almost-too-good-to-be-true romance that all my friends and my parents and their friends tell me about and insist I will find someday, I just had to be patient, it'll happen when I least expect it. I want a romance like the one’s I’ve read in books, and seen on TV, and watched in movies. Was that to much to ask for? I think not.

In a moment of bravery, I dared to look up again only to come face to face with him.

I had a hunch on what came next.

We’d doing something of a dance. Wanting to reach for something I was blocking, he would go left, but I would go right, but his left is my right so I just got in his way even more. Our awkward waltz would go one for about a minute before he bowed out, and let me pass with a chuckle and a friendly smile. I’d be blushing profusely and apologizing. Somehow we end up exchanging names, numbers, and I end up having a date that weekend.

We’d go on that date -- it would start out rough, but turned out better than either of us could’ve imagined.

We’d share our first kiss -- it would be awkward in the best way possible.

We’d start to fall in love -- completely, totally, crazily in love with one another.

Along the way, I’d realize that the wait for him, for the one, was well worth it and I regretted ever complaining.

More dates.

More kisses.

More romantic bliss, with a bump or two, because no relationship was perfect, especially if I was involved.

A year later he’d take me on another date at a fancy restaurant that required me to wear a dress. We’d dance. My hands would be curled around his neck, playing with the hairs back there. His hands would be on the small of my back, a welcomed, warm, and gentle touch. We’d only be swaying, because he couldn’t dance to save his life. Then he’d lean down and whisper something in my ear. This was how we first met, dancing. I’d smile, lean back, and tease him. His dancing was a lot smoother that day than it was now. He'd just kiss me in response, laughing against my lips.

Later that night, when we were alone, he’d wax poetic of our love and how happy he was to have met me. Then he’d get down on one knee and hold up a red velvet box.

Tears would stream down my face. I’d choke out a yes. Yes, of course!

On my wedding day, I’d be in a gorgeous white dress, surrounded by the friends and family that'd tell me they told me so, they said I'd find him, I just had to wait, and he’d be there at the front, waiting for me like I had waited for him. The one difference would be that he saw me coming.

We'd say our vows, promising our hearts, our souls, our lives to one another then lean in for a kiss to seal our fate. My eyes would flutter shut as everyone clapped and cheered us on with vigor. Then we'd live happily ever after.

This had to be too good to be true, right?

I finally opened my eyes and I'm back in the grocery store.

It was all in my head, a work of fiction concocted by a foolish young woman on a moment’s notice after spying someone mildly attractive while running a mundane errand.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat.

I looked up in surprise to come face to face with the guy. My breath hitched and caught in my throat. There he was right in front of me. Was it all possible after all? Could he be the one? My the one? Was my wild fantasy going to become a concrete reality?

Sadly, we don’t dance. I went right, but so did he, and my heart broke a little in my chest.

No. It was still just a fantasy.

I smile at him, in an attempt to salvage the future we could have together, but the grin he tossed me was half-hearted, out of courtesy, and probably the same smile he used on the elderly store greeter.

He grabbed whatever it was that he needed and walked off without so much as a glance back in my direction. My eyes followed him as he rounded the corner to disappear down an aisle, our future lost forever.

That was when I realized that my wait for him, my the one, whoever and wherever he may be, was still an ongoing -- and so far fruitless -- endeavor.

So yeah, I fell in love with a complete stranger, but I did last week, too, and the week before that and the week before that and the month before that and so many other times before that as well.

But I’ll probably do it again next week.