Monday, March 18

“I’m starting to understand why ex-convicts have a hard time shopping…this is absolute hell,” I mutter under my breath. I’ve been in the Hair Care section of the store for the past ten minutes trying to find a new shampoo because my current one is giving me a reaction. I thought it’d be quick, but I’m so confused. I can’t remember what ingredient my coworker told me to steer clear of, and I’ve lost track of how many brands I already tried. At some point, I began numbering off ones that smelled good so I could use an online number picker to choose for me, but I kept forgetting what I numbered them.

Now, I find myself crossed-legged on the nasty aisle floor, with several promising-ish hair brands surrounding me, trying to hold back tears because I can’t make one decision like a well-adjusted adult. 

“Why the fuck are so many flavors?” 

A muffled laughter comes from behind me, and I feel a flush rise up my cheeks as I turn to the sound. I’m dark enough that the man can’t visually see how flustered I am, and it’s the only saving grace now. If the embarrassment wasn’t making my face heat up enough, how handsome he is doesn't help either. 

He. Is. Handsome! He’s brown like caramel, but I can’t decide if he’s Latino or Asian…or both. Either way, he has a nice head full of deep brown hair and dark eyes that I wanna get lost in. Based on the little smile lines around his eyes and absolutely no baby fat, I’d say he’s thirty-something. (Heart be still!) He’s no longer laughing, but his lips twitch in amusement as he stares at me. 

Right. Mister Caramel was laughing at me. I quickly rip my eyes away—mournfully, may I add—to silently encourage him to keep going about his business and away from damn the aisle. Then I can put everything back, go home, and cry. I try to sniffle as I sort the bottles to their proper homes.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry, let me help you,” Mister says, all husky and whatnot. Even though he laughed, he seemed really warm-natured, like a natural people-person. Must be nice. 

I don’t say anything, trying to speed up, but then I hear him walk behind me. 

And oh. My. God. Are frickin’ kidding me? He’s handsome and smells good too?! I can’t help but take a deep breath—I mean, I need to calm down after all—and I have to lock my knees. Coconut and something woody…my two scent kryptonites.

I hesitantly glance over my shoulder, shocked to see him restocking the shelves. 

“It’s f-fine.” 

Nothing is fine, but I can’t handle this proximity anymore. Mister bends down to put the Dove one back, and good googly moogly, that thang is juicy. 

Shut up, Keisha. No better than a man. Get it together.

Yes, Keisha. 

I focus on shelving everything as if my life depended on it, but he distracts me again. 

“No. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t trying to laugh at you,” Mister speaks up, walking closer to place the final bottle back. I can’t handle eye contact and go for the cute mole on his right cheek. No, it’s my right…so his left. Yeah, there is a cute mole on his left cheek and the object of my focus. I shall not stray from the cute mole. 

“I just didn't think anyone else called scents flavors also.”

I almost immediately break my eye rule, but then I remember it'd be fruitless. I’m not what anyone would call the best at reading faces.

“Oh. Right. I mean, not exactly with shampoo because they’re basically listing ingredients, but body wash and lotion names are so weird,” I start nervously. But now I can’t stop. 

“I mean, like, be so fucking for real. Suppose they name them Hibiscus Mistress, Chocolate Thunder, and Electric Lime Boogie Woogie Woogie, and they smell like food. In that case, I think they should be considered flavors. Especially with Bath and Body Works. Why the fuck do people want to smell like cookies and pie and champagne, it be socially acceptable, but I get looked at funny by the salespeople when I ask ‘Hey, do you know where blah blah flavor is?’”  

Trying to catch my breath, it starts to sink in that I just did one of my rants to a complete stranger. Can I just combust on the spot? Why did I do that? As I begin to descend into a spiral, Mister Man tries to bite down his laugh, but I see his shoulders shaking. 

"What," I bark.

Mister Chuckles shows remarkable restraint, but even he can’t help but react.

“Uh, those names were spectacular. However, isn’t Chocolate Thunder the name of the late Darryl Dawkins?”

“Yeah…I was listening to Stevie Wonder on the way here.”

“Ahhh.”

I pause, waiting for the question of how it connects, but it never comes. It would make sense for a true NBA fan to know easy lore like that, but it’s nice not having to explain why my mind went from one point to another.  

A beat of silence stretches, but the slight smile on his lips doesn’t leave, and I’m beginning to think he’s entertained. Too curious for my own good, I look up only to find his eyes waiting for me. 

“Did you figure out which one you wanted?”

“What?”

“The shampoo. Did you figure out a shampoo flavor?”

Shit! I went to the store for one reason, and I still couldn’t do it right. It all comes flooding back in--today's shitty start, how long I've been here, and a bunch of other unrelated shit. My eyes start stinging again, and I bite my gum to hold back the frustration. 

“I think I give up. It’s too much.”

“Damn right, it is,” Mister agrees. He walks away, and I feel a little pang in my heart. I thought we were…I don’t know. Having a moment? A meet-cute? 

As if someone would pursue me.

This is enough humiliation for the day.  

“How ‘bout,” handing me a coconut milk shampoo from a brand I surprisingly haven’t tried. “This. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh…thanks.”

He gives me one last wide smile, and I nearly stumble from how much they blind me. “Have a good night, beautiful.”

Paying no mind to my jaw landing on the floor, Mister Collogate exists the aisle. 

I can’t help but think of that phrase: Hate hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

“I think I get it now.”

“What?”

I flinch again at the older gentleman staring at me with raised brows.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t addressing you. I was talking to myself.”

The old man not so subtly moves away from me. 

Yeah, buddy. I would do the same in your position.