Yesterday, after picking up the last parts of Valentine’s Day dinner, I got in line at the cashier behind a guy who had just finished paying. I have no idea what happened just prior to my arrival, so I caught only the very last thing he said to the woman at the cash register:
“I have no one to love!” he exclaimed.
He immediately grabbed his two items — one of those store-cooked rotisserie chickens that for reasons unknown to most people are always cheaper to buy than make yourself, and a six-pack of beer — and hustled out of the store at top speed. He moved so quickly and the exit was so close that I didn’t even have a chance to say “It gets better,” or something similar.
It was now my turn at the cashier. From my basket, I pulled out two kinds of pate and a chocolate bear holding a big red heart.
“You have someone to love,” the cashier said.
“Maybe these are for me,” I said with a smile. “Maybe I love myself a lot…like Kanye.”
She gave me a concerned look.
“No, I’ve got someone. Getting married next month.”
I hope that he’s just having a bad post-breakup moment, which we’ve all had, and not in need of more serious help. I hope he’ll be all right.
Take it from me, dude. It gets better.
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