The cute that never met

For a long time, I had a tendency to live in fantasy. By now I realize that it was a coping mechanism. Not really fully healthy or unhealthy. Rather, a mix. Perhaps even neutral. My fantasies focused on men. These were not sexual fantasies, though some ended up there. My daydreaming was actually just what seems to happen to a lot of people for real. 

You meet a person somewhere out in the world. They notice you; you notice them. You strike up a convo. You grab a drink. You get married, have kiddos, grow old, and die of age, in bed holding hands. Ya know, the heteronormative westernized dream. But that never seemed to happen to me. I’d see people out in the world. I’d notice them, but I wouldn’t be noticed in return. Thus, fantasy ensues. 

He’s mulling over an asparagus purchase, appearing deep in thought while blocking my path to the raspberries. 

‘Scuse me, I’m just gonna sneak past ya real quick, I say, just a notch above a whisper like a good Midwesterner. 

“Oh gosh, so sorry. I was mulling over an asparagus purchase and I guess I was blocking your path to the raspberries.”

We are one brain. 

I bellow a laugh and wave, No worries. 

He turns to look me in the eye and actual stars burst from his pupils. 

As he hands me a pack of perfect (non-organic – no need to tack on that extra $3) raspberries, he tells me that he doesn’t usually do this in the Trader Joe’s produce section, but would I like to get a cold brew? 

Why yes, I would very much enjoy getting a cold brew. 

We head straight to Starbucks and both order grande cold brews with room for the half and half we take turns pouring out of the stainless-steel carafe labeled HALF + HALF. 

He too is a Starbucks rewards member. 

We fall in love. 

Get married. 

Buy a house. On a lake. 

He’s a “financial advisor.”

We watch so much basketball. 

We parent multiple offspring, all of whom are tall and athletically inclined. 

We retire early cause we’re rich like that. 

We grow old watching our grandchildren frolic on the lakeshore, a fleet of dogs joining them in the surf. 

We die, but we all die. 

I watched our whole lives flourish in the time it took you to pick out a bundle of fucking asparagus. 

Even after we died you were still mulling. Obliviously mulling. I too was lost in thought, but not once did you notice I was lurking nearby, stalking the nonorganic raspberries. 

Self-absorbed much, Steve? 

Since we didn’t meet cute at Trader Joe’s and you didn’t buy me a cold brew with your coveted Starbucks Reward Stars, I got engaged. 

And guess what? He had never stepped foot in a Starbucks until he met me! What are Starbucks Reward Stars, he said. 

We met in a very not cute but normal modern way: The apps! 

He had never watched a full basketball game pre-me, and our children will be average height at best. 

Before him I had never been fishing or camping successfully as an adult. I had never been to River Falls, Wisconsin. I had never made small talk about hunting or gone snowmobiling on Christmas Eve.

I’ve had a whole life since your asparagus mull. 

I’ve gotten over you, Steve. And I no longer have to fantasize about strangers in front of the Trader Joe’s raspberries because I now have the life I used to dream about.