My Grocery Store Hottie
has been MIA for many weeks now - so many that he cannot possibly be merely ill or on vacation; it is evident he no longer works for Whole Foods [formerly Wild Oats, which was a far more appropriate name considering why I shopped there]
. I have heaved grand sighs about this development (not to mention gone back to shopping the normal once a week, thus saving our family thousands of dollars in gas and random grocery purchases), and felt I had gotten over it.
But when in London, we stumbled across a little cafe off Carnaby Street where I could get a much-desired not-Starbucks coffee. When I went to place my order, I was struck by how much the barista reminded me of my long-lost grocery boy. He was
on the young side, had rugged yet boyish looks (two healing black eyes - Edward Norton in Fight Club
, anyone?), and most importantly, was absolutely indifferent to me. Even Stu was sympathetic and offered to take a picture of me with him in the background, but
that felt particularly desperate and silly
I said no thanks. And so all I have is this photo, along with my memory of our single bittersweet non-encounter. Because I swear I did not go back to that coffee shop again during our visit. I didn't even consider it. Really.
This cream-filled blueberry muffin proved a workable salve for my bruised ego.