I’m tempted to start this post out with the following sentence: I don’t mean to brag, but…
You all know what that means don’t ya?
Uh-huh. So let’s just get right to it.
And yes. I know that being boastful is ungodly.
Forgive me just this once. The story is worth it. I hope so anyway.
So we were grocery shopping the other day, and by we I mean Jeff, Jayce and I. My mom was in the store too, but off picking out area rugs for Kennedy’s new room. Yes. We got the rug at the grocery store. Klassy, I know. Anyway, back to the boasting.
So we’re crusing the aisles in our normal configuration: Jayce in the cart with Jeff pushing it while I scour the shelves for the lowest prices and check the labels for high fructose corn syrup and whatnot. So there we were, minding our own business, when one of those grocery guys who sweep the aisles with those obnoxious brooms comes up behind us and sort of interrupts our shopping to ask if we’re finding everything alright. It was just an odd thing because we had our backs to him, there was no eye contact made, and we weren’t stopped in the aisle looking dumbfounded, rather we were cruisin’ right along at a decent pace. Anyway, I told him that we were having no trouble locating the thin spaghetti and thanked him for his concern. Only I wasn’t that sarcastic in real life.
So the grocery kid (and I say kid because he was maybe college age, most likely high school though) sort of leans into Jeff and says something to him that I can’t hear. Jeff responds with a chuckle, like one of those laughs-for-lack-of-something-better-to-fill-the-silence-with chuckles. The broom guy continues up the aisle and turns the corner. I ask Jeff what he said.
He said, “You’re married to her? Good job man.”
He did not say that.
I swear that is exactly what he said.
No he didn’t.
Swear.
Whatever.
I’m dead serious. That is exactly what he said.
Why would he say that? People don’t say that sort of thing.
I know. But that’s what he said.
And what did you say?
You were right there. You saw what I said.
I couldn’t hear. What did you say?
I said thanks.
That’s it?
Yeah, that’s it.
He didn’t really say that. Why would he say that? He totally didn’t say that.
Okay. But yes. He did.
So now you see why I should have started this post out with the disclaimer that I’m not bragging.
Because really I’m not. I mean it’s not like Orlando Bloom pulled my husband aside and congratulated him on his catch. It was the broom kid at the grocery store.
But I’d be lying if I said that little incident didn’t leave me walking a little taller that day. Because it’s not everyday that someone congratulates my husband for bagging a hottie.
Well. It’s not.
Later that night, as we were brushing our teeth, I totally spit toothpaste all over my mirror as Jeff was rehashing the story for me. Only with added commentary this time.
I didn’t know what to say to him really. Like, dude, what am I? Chopped liver? I sort of thought we were equally matched in the looks department. And now I’m getting ‘good job mans’ from the broom guy at Fry’s? What’s up with that? I totally need to start working out.
I think it’s karma really. Before he was clued in to the nuances of relationships we got married, Jeff once said to me (and notice that I’m adding quotations here), “I mean, you’re no Jennifer Aniston…”. Let me put it in context for you. He was explaining to me why a certain ex of mine made a mistake in putting me on a pedestal during our relationship. As I type it I can barely believe he was idiotic enough to let those words slip from his mouth but, oh, he was. He most certainly was. He was not kidding or being sarcastic. He was dead serious. And completely clueless I might add. He’s truly lucky I hung in with him as he fumbled his way to where he is now.
In fact, I’m thinking maybe I’ll start arranging for this sort of thing to spontaneously occur more often. That oughta really give him a complex.
It’d serve him right, don’t you think?
Jennifer Aniston. Pfft. Please. She’s got nothing on me. Just ask the broom guy.
