She’s One of Them

This one, too, is a few months old.  Just cleaning out the lint trap a bit.

Alabama man wouldn’t put up with this shit

“The other day I found myself reminiscing about my previous relationship, and my brain settled on one of the more vivid memories I have of it. I distinctly remember the first time we went grocery shopping together. It sticks out because we were still in the primitive stages of the relationship, and it was the first “adult” relationship either of us had been in.

At any rate, that first trip to the grocery store was a bit of an eye-opener.  We needed lettuce for a salad we had planned for dinner. Ok, no biggie. I walked over to the heads of lettuce being misted by those little spray nozzles.

“Uh, where ya going?”  is what I heard as she pushed the cart behind me. Well, I was going to pick out a nice head of lettuce to hack up.

“The lettuce is right here,” she said, pointing to the bagged lettuce over by the pre-made salad mixes. I just remember thinking, “Oh, boy. She’s the one who buys that stuff. She’s one of them.”

Who “them” was didn’t matter. It was that one moment when I realized some families didn’t chop their own lettuce.

Apparently, not everyone’s family bought the low-fat cream cheese, either. That day at the grocery store, I realized some people don’t like the taste of it.

That day, in that aisle, my mind flashed ten years into the future, a future in which my once-slender girlfriend was standing at the kitchen counter, slathering an everything bagel with half a container of strawberry Philadelphia.

As we walked down aisle nine to grab some toilet paper, I realized we weren’t just choosing toilet paper for that day – we were choosing toilet paper for life. I shuddered a little as she reached for the Cottenelle. I saw my checking account dwindling as each double-ply square flew off the roll.

“This is one thing I don’t like to buy generic.”  Fair enough. Apparently, I was just used to wiping my ass with little more than tree bark for the previous 21 years of my life.

But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just my mind that was getting carried away.

When we got in the car and I said “Oh, ya know what?  We forgot beer,” I got this odd blank stare.  I swear she was picturing me at 40, with a beer gut and Ernie McCracken comb-over, knocking my Bud Light over, cheering as the Browns hit a game-tying field goal. Great, another hour of this slob hogging the television.

I’m on a gravy train with biscuit wheels

Forget the first time you have sex or the first fight. It’s the first trip to the grocery store than changes a couple.

But life goes on.

It’s kind of like the first morning you wake up together. You rise and shine next to Sleeping Beauty’s crusty eyes and morning breath, and she squints over at Prince Charming’s cheek resting in a puddle of drool on the pillow.

You freak out for a few seconds, but then you throw a tissue on the drool, you both brush your teeth, and you enjoy some morning sex followed by some coffee and a bagel. Maybe a little cream cheese.

Yeah, life goes on.“