Run-in with TOTGA

Up to a certain point today, today was gorgeous and good, just as you would expect a Saturday in the Napa Valley to be. I puttered around the house and cleaned and prepared for an event tomorrow and did stuff. I decided to go shopping for food and other necessities, and so pulled on jeans and a top (one that emphasized my chest--an important factor as you will later see). I skipped the makeup (also important, as I am not blessed with perfect skintones and have lately been battling circles and bags) except for a shine of pink gloss.

I was happy; I smiled at clerks, chose my vegetables, treated myself to a new nail polish from OPI. (A wonderfully dark purple--so dark it's practically black.) And then I decided to dart into TJ's for beer and a salad. The moment I stepped into the store I saw him, TOTGA, and his girlfriend. My heart clenched and I made a beeline for the salads, making sure I stayed out of his line of sight. I skirted around to the beer section and grabbed a six-pack of Pilsner. So far, so good--I would make it out of TJ's with my treasures and without having to look at him.

As in a romantic comedy, I was foiled at the checkout. There they were, next to the checkout stand I was planning to use! I decided to continue with the plan and slipped into line, conveniently bending down to examine the chocolate on offer. Maybe I wouldn't be seen, but of course, the checkout stations at TJ's are designed to have the customers face each other ...

I felt ill; my hands were shaking. The checkout girl probably wondered what the heck was up with me. I looked up at TOTGA, pretending to have just seen him and smiled and said hey. He had the phone to his ear and smiled back, all calm, cool and collected--phased by my presence not in the least.

Of course.

I paid and left TJ's so quickly the automatic sliding door couldn't open fast enough. I probably appeared dramatic, but I couldn't stand to be in there. I felt nauseated for the next two hours.

Even without the makeup, I feel confident that I looked good (thanks to Mama and what she gave me). This counts for a fleeting something, as you ladies know.

I just wonder when I'll stop feeling this way. No matter how many times I tell myself he's an old geezer and a bit of an asshole for The Whole Thing*, I can't help but get Weird when I see him. Dammit.

*He wasn't an asshole. On a scale of 1 - 10, 10 being the worst, he was a 3-4 overall.