I got a bit melancholy tonight as I thought of younger days in my made excuse to hit the pharmacy on my way home for a third time in three days claiming old and having forgotten something the first two times around. The melancholy? The pretty girl at the Walgreens pharmacy. An unintentional intentional forgetting I guess.
I had been there twice in two days, for legitimate reason, the first to the refill of the relatively recent prescription I have of the smallest of pills that are now old man necessary in the largest of ways to keep the blood pressure on keel and then the second, the next day (after I had forgotten to get it all done in one) to a refill of the other pills that I am life tied to now after having discovered an adrenal deficiency that landed me in some hospital shuffling nine days sock footed sliding slippers shimmy swipe dance with nurses and visiting doctors and pudding (or jello) seven years ago.
But the melancholy came from this third day where I told myself I had to, with ulterior motive, go back and grab some Pepto that I had forgotten to pick up on either day to try and hold off the eventual nights where my heartburn or something of the sort keeps sleep at bay and has become quite a bother. I also thought to maybe pick up anything else for appearances sake in case my obviousness of a single item was noticed, paper towels would work I said to myself, yeah, maybe even some TP and Tums and …
I stepped up to the pharmacy counter, sorta fake purchase in hand, hoping to finally have a sec after the first two trips netted only her coworker and his remarkable beard and perfect quaff of hair above it.
She (a day three reason) immediately recognized and checked the alphabet drawer boxes under “F” for a bag around all the others in an overstuffed pharmacy library (so many people, so many ailments) without me asking.
She gave me a “???” look.
“Ok, sorry, nothing to check for me there right now, I’m all medicined reminded old dude good” I said “I just thought I could pretend that I am checking on prescriptions so I could ring my things up here instead of that line up front that is about a dozen people long, including at least two older women maybe getting ready to pay with a check.”
“Sure, only for you” she said with a laugh and a fetching smile.
I suddenly found myself being young again and talking to a pretty girl and remembering when I would have done such or do such now, usually pretty awkwardly after a maybe initial burst of confidence.
I let her know that her new dark color wave of whispy long flowing shoulder falling hair was a great look and sans glasses too, working even better simply for the change of it, which it did, does.
“You noticed?”
Any guy who has missed this is an idiot.
“Well yeah, of course” I said “been meaning to point it out (been dying to) but I just haven’t had chance to be at the counter with you to tell you so”
She smiled a million dollars.
Now, I have long ago given up such things, appealing to pretty girls like I were young again knowing that I have really nothing to offer now, I am broken, old, have suitcases of shit, history under my eyes, have very particular single habits, I have vices, I have broken myself almost intentionally after too many reasons to break, my breath is hard fought these days, I am out of shape, I am a single dude with two cats (formerly so many missed more) and whatever sad cliché that might imply my care of such worries put to the wayside for times to write of things just like this, but she smiled those million dollars and for just that one moment I was not my aged age any longer and I was reminded that she would have been just the one who I would have awkwardly tried to grab the attention of back when. The pretty girl who would have caught my eye and maybe a me hers if I were so lucky.
And that was it, though I will have to refill my stay alives in another month or maybe even go through paper towels and TP waaaay faster than any single guy should.
I got a bit melancholy tonight.
“You noticed?”
“Of course I did”
So many idiot guys.
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