So I had just finished a workout at the gym, bought a large Timmies, spilled it all over myself because of course the coffee intuitively knew that I was wearing white, and then I looked at the time and realized I'd better make a quick dart into the LCBO for a bottle of wine. I grabbed my favourite shiraz, I headed to the checkout and BAM!!!
Hot guy, directly ahead of me in the checkout line, in biceps-hugging T-shirt and jeans, his arm around a very attractive woman's shoulders. Then I caught his profile and was aghast. "Ack, it's
Because honestly, you guys. I looked like shit. I know it sounds laughable, that a creature of such statuesque goddessism could ever look like shit. Oh but I did. Allow me to conjure up the disturbing mental image:
Hair: Wild, frizzy, kind of crazy-lady if you must know
Face: Sweaty and naked
Clothes: Coffee-stained. Barely even matching. (Laundry day)
Body odour: Probably
So when this dude started to turn around I flat-out panicked.
Because no woman wants to be the one the ex looks at and thinks: "Holy fuck, LOOK at her! Is that even the same broad or is it her fatter older spinster aunt?"
When a woman runs into her ex, it doesn't matter whether she still loves him or despises the fungus-infested ground his pig hooves walk on, she wants to look good. Damn good. She wants him to feel regret. Longing. Maybe even grovel a little.
So I'm not kidding when I say instinct kicked in and I literally walked backwards and hid in the next aisle.
After a few seconds of fake browsing, I peeked over the shelf: nope, still there.
Walked to the next aisle, pretended to be keenly interested in the scotch, peeked: Dammit! Still there.
A staffer eyed me suspiciously, no doubt picking up on my furtive, shoplifter-like demeanor.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Yes, you can throw a big fucking bag over my whole head and body and spirit me out the back door!" I whispered hoarsely.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No thanks, I'm good."
Finally, the ex and his supermodel girlfriend paid and left.
I have never known such relief.
I went straight home and changed out of my coffee-splattered rags, showered, fixed my hair and put on makeup. Because goddamit, I have a lot of exes ... and I still had groceries to do.