I talked the husband into running the grocery errand with me after I was done with work. He picked me up as usual and we headed to Central Market. I'm making dinner tonight - it's baking while I type. But this is besides the point. . . .
I was at the grocery with my husband. MY husband. The one and only husband. When I was approached by crazy men who decided that they shall strike up conversations with me.
The husband thought it would be hilarious to walk away.
And while all y'all think that I should have followed, I could not. I was waiting for my order to be picked and wrapped.
I was stuck.
With a crazy man* asking me all sorts of questions, such as, "are you a nurse?" (I was wearing scrubs - I have to for my work) as well as "what are you making tonight?" and the ever obvious, "did you notice how cold it is outside? It's supposed to snow!" Blah, blah, blah. . . . . (please strike me down with thunder. . .I mean, lightening - now.)
I tried to be polite.
Do you ever get that really uncomfortable gut feeling?
M'kay. Need I say more.
I found the husband, of course, in the wine section. He was picking and choosing like he doesn't have a wife-who-monitors-&-reigns-in-the-ever-wine-loving-man-who-I-deem-the-husband. He was practically dancing around the entire section grabbing this and that. I relayed my crazy man story.
The husband just laughed. Laughed! At moi. Hmpf. Men.
And then. . . . . it happened again with a completely different man**. In the cheese section. Again, I tried to be polite. Again, the husband walked away laughing.
The husband is fired.
*/**I'd like to point out here that these men were old. Well, older than me anyway. They were not some young hot tasty whipper snapper of a Rob Pattinson. 'Cos then I don't think the husband would have been so quick to walk away.
I'm just sayin'.