by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com
I think I had a five-minute relationship with a woman at the supermarket.
I was walking around by myself – as usual.
I had my trusty ‘transistor radio’ on me.
And no I do not do this for the ‘quirk factor’ per se –
What can I say I like classic rock but hate smartphones.
Perhaps this is what you do when transitioning to being old.
She’s twenty eight (she told me that later on).
She said “I like your music” and I didn’t hear her.
Then she appeared again at the next aisle and said it again.
I heard it this time.
We chatted a little.
She told me she’s trying to be more outgoing – so that’s why she said hi.
I was impressed – it takes a lot for a gal to do that.
I said ‘walk with me’.
She did.
I picked up some milk – I picked up two litres.
“I need some too” she said – one litre”.
It makes sense as I’m twice as big as her.
She told me she various psychological ailments –
I wasn’t judgmental – these days don’t we all?
I mean – who can say that they aren’t a little ‘F’d in the swede’
It’s all a matter of degree.
We got to the toilet paper aisle.
I thought to myself that if I was younger I’d be embarrassed now.
When you are young you get embarrassed about being human and having to wipe.
That I don’t miss – the embarrassment of youth.
I got one brand, she got another.
She was carrying her stuff like a bachelor does – no basket hugging the goods tightly.
I made a joke about this and that she should carry it on her head.
A bad joke but she didn’t pull me up on it.
Then I said we should catch up sometime for a coffee.
She was keen & we exchanged details in modern day way – her phone.
I haven’t messaged her yet.
I’m not sure if I will.
it’s nice to wind back the clock.
That kind of thing happened to me all the time between twenty and thirty five.
That was thirteen years ago now.
It’s a nice ego boost for sure.
But now the main thought I am having is this:
‘What if she’s more crazy than I am?’
This is probably just me being ‘avoidant’.
That’s always been a hobby of mine after all.
I feel uncertain.
I’m so out of touch with all this.
I’ve been a Monk.
And I am probably a broken man after all.
But then who isn’t at my age?
It’s a small town, I’ll see her soon some time anyway.
And I’m sure thinking like that says a lot about me.
But the next impromptu Supermarket run in could be best anyway.
So instead of default neuroticism – I’ll just try to keep my pecker up.
And If I never see her again, I guess we’ll always have the bog-rolls, milk, and classic rock.
I wonder if she’ll ever read this and recognize herself?
Anton Martin Smith Writer 