I’m in Love

I met the woman of my dreams in the Publix supermarket on Sunday, in the middle of the soup and rice aisle of course. I was shopping for microwavable meals when she rounded the corner and perused the Rice-a-Roni. The hideous florescent lighting that normally highlights every pimple and boil on us ordinary human beings didn’t mar this treasure from the orient. It ran down her long, silky hair like melting diamonds and highlighted her flawless golden skin. As my baby blues locked onto her almond eyes, I knew at once deep in my heart that I wanted to fuck her brains out.

On top of all that other romantic crap, she had an iPod on her hip. It sat in an open-faced belt clip, and I noticed that she had chosen the same model as Satan Sue*. The setting was perfect – a chance meeting between two people who liked instant foods, own iPods, and think Asian chicks are dead sexy. Well, at least one of us thought that. BTW, I’m also into redheads. If I could only find a Chinese woman with bright green eyes who is a natural redhead, owns a liquor store, and on weekends is the bass player for a heavy metal band…but I digress.

iPods are the perfect conversation starter since you can compare musical tastes, playlists, audiobook selections, and the fact that we’re so much cooler than everybody else. (Warning – some of us who have reached the sixth level of iPodia are pyrokinetic and can set you on fire with a thought, so accept your dweebishness as your cross to bear and leave us the Hell alone.) As an added bonus, I could ask her where she got the cool belt clip that allows access to the click wheel. My overpriced belt clip, the official one from Apple, completely covers the front. So I girded my loins, tucked them into the full upright and locked position, and prepared to make contact.

Side note – I empathize with women who dislike being hit upon by smelly slobs when they’re trying to take care of business, I really do, but please try to put yourselves in our sweaty shoes. Being the one society expects to make the first move is not an enviable position. In the dating arena, I’d rather play defense any day.

So, loins girded, I began to track my prey object of desire, but then I realized the fatal flaw in my plan. With the earbuds in her ear, she wouldn’t be able to hear me. At least I can’t hear anything people say when I’m wearing mine, which is no accident. I keep the volume at a specific level (ground zero) designed to make me think I’m walking around watching a rock video of my life. I have a concert in my head with an eclectic lineup (for example, Judas Priest just opened for The Who).

What to do? What is the proper etiquette for that situation. Should I jump in front of her, flail my arms like I’m having a seizure, and wait for her to acknowledge me? Maybe I should sidle up, yank a bud free, and whisper some of the things I’d like to do to her in her ear. Women love confidence, right? Then again, I could always pretend to choke and hope she comes to my rescue before the hairy tub of lard fondling the boxes of Hamburger Helper. By the time I reached my decision (stand like an idiot with a frozen smile and hope she makes the first move) the iPod princess had disappeared. A quick tour through the store netted nothing. I wound up in the ice cream section and decided to drown my sorrows with ice cream bars since nobody never loves me never ever ever. Note – it was not Ben & Jerry’s. I’m a manly man. I stick with Mayfield.

If you’re reading this (and you know you are) and you’re a hot Asian woman in her thirties who owns an iPod and lives in the Atlanta area, leave a comment or shoot me an e-mail letting me know when and where I can ravish meet you. As you can tell by my writing, I’m a kind and sensitive soul with passion and generosity of spirit coming out of my wazoo. Did I mention that I have an iPod? Red hair, green eyes, beer and heavy metal a plus.

There’s probably a lesson in here somewhere, but I’m not seeing it.

* my iPod, the 40gb full-size model.