so i've mentioned i'm on this health kick, right?
after quickly tiring of the sticker shock that is and will forever be the hallmark of the whole foods shopping experience, this week i decided to move further east, thinking an independent market's gotta be cheaper.
yeah well, think again--the old erewhon's no more. today i'm in their slick, new nuts-and-seeds aisle swooning over $20/lb. raw macademias and wondering why the fuck i ever thought i'd save money in this place, when i suddenly become aware of a sweet, clear voice harmonizing with the golden oldie being piped in overhead.
i turn to my left to find about ten feet down the aisle the cutest lil' ol' boy you ever saw--short and dirty-blond, erewhon apron wrapped around his tight, compact bod, quietly and obliviously singing along to the muzak as he restocks his shelves.
i catch his eye with a smile and say [because i still always know what to say] "so 40 years later, touch me's still cool?"
he falls all over himself assuring me that yeah, it is; turns out he and his band are currently rehearsing love me two times for their next gig--am i a doors fan? "from way back in the day," i assure him back, tell him one of my favorite jim morrison anecdotes and the payoff's immediate--from the body language and the look in his eye, i know i've got him.
we spend the next half-hour traversing every aisle in the store, this kid and i, shooting the shit as he personally and painstakingly seeks out every item on my list, and i casually toss it all into my cart without even looking at the prices.
as the easy intimacy between us builds, he knows exactly where this is going, and so do i--i.e., absolutely nowhere, but that's not the point.
how much did it all cost? that's not the point, either.
the point is, the hermit needed a reminder that flirting's like riding a bicycle--you never forget.
3 comments:
Yes, it's nice isn't it? -- particularly when they're a great deal younger and are genuinely into it.
We had an Erewhon in Boston years -- ahem, decades -- ago. I still have not been able to find some of the stuff they carried, like rolled corn which made the BEST morning porridge, anywhere else.
Nowadays, one goes to Trader Joe in Cambridge not far from where I worked for 32 years at MIT, or the one in Brookline, both filled with alternative type boys many of whom have an appreciative eye for the older, experienced man and know how to play the game. Delightful.
will: spice o' life, babe.
so did you feed him some nut pate or homemade cashew butter?
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