This past Tuesday morning, Ben was working at home, which for him required a large cup of coffee. This wasn't a problem; however, we were out of the ever-important component of a cup of coffee in our house: creamer. Seems we were also out of cat litter, and I needed to pick up a prescription across the street anyway, so, like a good little wifey, I offered to go to the store for the necessities. So. I headed to the store at about 7:45...which is unheard of in my world. I really wasn't awake enough to care what I looked like, so I put on my huge wide-leg "yoga"/sleeping pants, a bra on under the t-shirt in which I slept, and pulled on my new favorite Nike running jacket with the thumb-holes in the sleeves. Hair in greasy ponytail-ish thing, and zero makeup on my face, I was looking pretty effing hot (and by "hot" I really mean the exact opposite of that).

I'm going through the store on my usual path when I start thinking about what we could do for dinner (stuffed peppers, ala Isle of Palms), and getting the things for them, and I head over to the meat department. I see some of the usual faces, the somewhat intimidating (as in not "smiley" or overly friendly) African-American fish monger being one of them. I mumble a groggy "g'morning" in reply to his greeting on my way to the meat as he is hosing down the empty fish cases. I then remember that I had passed the cat litter and circled back to that isle. I'm there, getting the litter, and here comes the fish monger in his hairnet of glory. The following ensues in the litter/pet food/battery isle:

"''Scuse me. Hi there. What's your name?"
"Uh..Maggie."
"Hi, Maggie. I'm Tyrone. It's very nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too."
(At this point, Tyrone says one of two things which I can't quite make out, partly because he's kind of mumbley, and partly because I'm kind of taken aback at the exchange, because I see this guy at least twice a week, and he's just now engaging me in conversation. And we're not at the fish counter; we're standing right in front of cat litter. At any rate, it has something to do with him seeing my "pretty smile" when I'm in the store, and coming to see him next time I'm there).

I proceed to the checkout lanes, thinking about how strange it is, but nice and flattering, in a bizarre, "Powder Springs" sort of way. And then I pay for my groceries and walk my cart back to the car, thinking I can't wait to tell Ben about my strange morning encounter. I sense someone coming out of the store behind me, but it doesn't dawn on me that the person is following me and walking slowly toward me, waiting for me to unload my cart. I shut the back door of my car, look up as I'm wheeling my cart around and taking it to the return space, and there's Tyrone. Again. Still in his hairnet.

"Hi, Maggie. Listen, I'm really sorry to bother you, but here's my number; why don't you take it and give me a call sometime?" He gives me a meaningful look.
I feel my eyes grow a bit wide as I look down at the torn piece of notebook paper he's starting to hand me, (with Tyrone (underlined) xxx-xxx-xxxx) and I offer an, "Ooh...um...I'm married."
"Oh you are? OH, I'm sorry. I didn't see a ring."
I look down at my hand, and sure enough, neither of my rings is there. But look! The skin is indented where it usually goes!
"Oh," my surprise is evident, at least to me. "I'm not wearing my ring today."

(At this point, I don't feel like I know Tyrone well enough to offer the explanation of the mysterious skin-stripping and hardening that is occurring on my ring finger's knuckle, which is made more painful by the wearing of my rings; nor do I feel that he cares to hear my theory about the cold-weather/morning swelling that occurs in my hands, making the removal and/or putting on of any rings before noon damn near impossible.)

"Okay, well, have a nice day," he says, taking back his piece of paper.
"You, too."

I'm sure he thought I was lying about being married, but here's the thing: a) I WASN'T, and b) Ben and I go to the store together a lot, and we buy a lot of fish. We've even been in there together to buy fish, and Tyrone has helped us, while we were both wearing rings and standing there, right in front of him, grocery shopping and being married. I just don't get it.

Anyhoo, for the time being, I think I have to either shop at the farther-away Kroger or send Ben to Publix for the groceries. I mean, flattering as it was to be given a guy's number when I looked like a pile of chubby crap, I'm just still a little bit creeped out about being followed to my car by a guy wearing a white coat and hairnet.

_{(cross-posted to baggie.)}