Hot Chocolate

My life is a series of hilarious awkward stories strung together like middle school boys playing Red Rover or the lights on Charlie Brown's Christmas tree. My friends get frequent awk-dates on my life, and I even have a friendship sustained for years with nothing but uncomfortable stories. I've decided to share the amusement that is my life with you, reader... whoever you are. Enjoy.

Last week, I made the wise decision to go to Walmart at 11 at night. As I deftly maneuver my shopping cart through the bean aisle, my eyes lock with a shorter man. He stands about my height and his hair is about my color. However, I'm pretty sure he hasn't washed his recently. A pungent odor hangs about his cart, and I resolve to dodge any potential conversation as I study the beans and internally debate the correct types for tomorrow's chili.

"What's your name?" Mr. Man asks as he gazes at me.
Dagnabit... "Becca," I say with a nod as I push my cart away.
"That's a pretty name," he replies as I nod again and leave.

It's not really that pretty of a name, actually. Pretty normal, but thanks. Oh goodness... ok. I need to grab some almond butter and get out of here...

I weave through aisles to throw Mr. Man off my scent, and head over to the nut butter section. Again, it's late, I'm tired, and I am struggling to make quick food choices. So, I linger a little too long over by the almond butter. An odor-wraith drifts over my shoulder and tickles my nose. I stare more intensely at my choices.

"Do you know where the Nestle Hot Chocolate is? The NesQuick? The hot chocolate?"
Am I wearing a "How can I help you?" smiley name tag? "Nope. Sorry," I reply.
"Oh. Well... do you like hot chocolate?"
Not when you ask me like that... but I answer, "Um..."
"Do you want to get some to drink it some time?"
Sir, first of all, it is late at night and still about 70 degrees outside. You should be offering iced tea. Secondly... "Nope, sorry, I can't," I respond.
"Oh... that's too bad. You look like fun," he smirks as he leaves.
Please excuse me while I simultaneously crawl out of my skin, throw up in my mouth, and run away.

I proceeded to grab whatever else I needed as quickly as possible and sprint through the check out line. I'm proud to report that I made it to the car and my apartment without further discomfort.