Today my friend Jennifer and I went to a new sushi place in Rogers Park. I enjoyed the vegetarian options. After, we took the bus to the big Salvation Army on Devon.
Jennifer got three items. I got two full bags. My weight gain has not been enough to make me a hippo, but my waist has gotten larger to the point where several skirts are no longer an option. For some reason, every other skirt was this great item, and I bought a buttload of clothes.
Next was a trip to an Indian grocery to pick up some things. Jennifer has lived in Malaysia, so she cooks somewhat international dishes, including Indian. We each got a bunch of stuff and waddled to the bus with all of our bags. On the bus, we started talking to two young-looking Indian men who had a few boxes of groceries. We were headed to the same train station. They saw our groceries, asked us how we came to cook Indian food, and Jennifer explained about Malaysia. Then she pointed to me and said, "she's a vegetarian, so..." I explained I had a lot of cookbooks. I relayed my experience making samosas from scratch many years ago.
"I made everything - EVERYTHING from scratch: I made the dough, I boiled the potatoes, everything. It took all day, and what a mess; I had recently moved into a studio apartment with a tiny kitchen. The next day I was exploring the neighborhood and came across an Indian grocery. The owner's mother made samosas. They were huge, and cost twenty-five-cents each."
They were very nice. One was obviously gay, and he was hilarious. The other guy said they'd met at a party and each was looking for a roommate, so there you go. They lived one stop north of me. On the train platform, we were talking about age somehow, and I was getting some vibe from the straight-seeming guy, who as fairly attractive. I figured I'd set the record straight.
"I could have given birth to you," I laughed.
"How old do you think I am?" he asked.
"30?"
"I"m 40."
Now, I could have smiled and told him how youthful and attractive he was. I could have blushed and said he looked a like a young Bollywood film star. What did I say?
"SHUT THE HECK UP YOU ARE NOT!"
Charming Am I, as Yoda would say.
I was really hoping we could all become friends -- I had visions of Indian feasts. When the train arrived, though, Jennifer moved in the opposite direction and sat down. I moved toward the door, near them, as we approached my stop. Cute guy stood up. I exchanged some chit chat with him and his friend, and then we got off at your stop. I was hoping he would suggest we get together.
I know, I could have suggested it, but frankly, I'm tired of being the forward one. Who knows; we live one stop apart; we could meet again. And he could cook for me. Oh, yes, he could. Matar Paneer me, baby.
6 comments:
At least you weren't all ladylike as I would've been. I would have gone whole hog: STFU!!
I like how you got yourself a buttload of clothes. Snort.
Seriously, though. I think it is pretty cool that you held back. I was just writing (to myself) about how following my feet works for me, brings me things (like china, 2 sets, where I had none) that I need. And people. I mean, I found you, right?!
But if it is meant to be, you will see him again. Especially if you start wandering the streets in the next stop over ... bwa ha ha ha ha! Oh my ... I'm off my rocker tonight. Regardless. If it is meant to be, you will get signs. Like ... palak paneer. Mmmmmm. And butter chicken, but without the chicken. Mmmmmmm.
ps. I love those samosas. Yum.
pps. if the bullet point thing works, I'm going to do a happy dance all the way home.
ppps. now I want some Malaysian food. Rats.
pppps. can you see my bullet point thing was a fail? dumb stupid snobby blogger. =)
I'm only good at, like, two things in the entire world. Flirting is one of them. Do you think I can put that on my resume? Because that's seriously pretty much all I've got. :-)
I love you gals, you know that? I actually was less interested in the guy than his cooking. I'm a curry whore. there. it;s out, And I feel good about it.
Lisa, if you start flirting classes, I'll sign up. I can take on riot police, muggers, crazy people in the street, but when a guys talks to me, I cannot make eye contact, and I fight off panic attacks.
best conversation of the night. Funniest thing is that I barely remember my part of it, even though I remember your post. That's frightening, eh?
I'm so good at flirting I've no idea I'm doing it, apparently. Ask all of my brothers in law. True stories. Ick.
So I'd take Lisa's class to sort out the WTF thing.
Guys always think we're flirting. You could vomit on their shoes and they think it's a come-on. I chatted with a guy at the bike garage because he works on my floor; no other reason, just being polite. The guy avoids me in the hallway now, because he clearly thinks I want him, and isn't interested. This guy is a complete TOAD. No looks, zero personality. What it must be like to have that kind of delusional ego...
Who gets to be prom queen?!?!?!? Valedictorian?
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