He saw me, I saw him. We saw each other. He looked like a Kenyan Denzel Washington. Everything about him was perfect, as far as I could see. Tall, dark, and handsome. He wore a white polo t-shirt with blue jeans to match, and a pair of Gucci shoes with a Rolex on his left wrist. He had a nice cut beard that somehow hid his round face. He was slightly built. If this guy was a piece of cake…
We were at an aisle in a supermarket, toiletry aisle. I reached for a roll of toilet paper, two rolls actually. He shot me a glance and I looked at him almost putting one roll back lest he thought the lavatory was my favourite room in the house. But I ignored his look, walked past him, and reached for a hand wash liquid soap. As I turned to go to a different aisle, he came and picked the exact same hand wash. I wondered if that was a coincidence or the guy was just being weird or he was trying to flatter me.
I walked on to the dry food aisle and picked a few things then headed to one of the cashiers. As I stood in one of the queues, the middle one, the guy came and stood right behind me. I didn’t think twice to look behind to confirm if it was him.
Suddenly, I heard someone tap my shoulder. I looked behind me and I caught him smiling. I smiled back. Was he going to ask for my number or something, I thought. He must be, I concluded. I was ready to give him my digits when he told me, “sorry but your…” as he pointed to something on my dress.
I looked down to see what he pointed at. I had never wished for the world to just stop for a moment and save me from this embarrassment. I wanted to run and hide my face. I couldn’t catch a break.
I left my shopping trolley there without a word and asked one of the attendants to show me where the restroom was. I went in and shut the door behind me. I immediately lifted my dress up and fixed my kamisi (petticoat). I swore that this was going to be the last time I wore one. I waited five more minutes to buy myself time and hopefully find the guy gone. I washed my hands, not that I needed to, then left.
I went back to the queue and found my trolley at the exact spot I had left it. The guy was gone. I was relieved. I paid for the shopping and headed for the exit. I didn’t want to imagine how many more people had seen my kamisi hanging below my dress. The embarrassment was too much!
I got to the exit and the guy stood there as if waiting for someone or something. I tried to chuck before he could see me then I heard a voice, that familiar voice I heard while in the queue, “hey, hey…” I ignored him and kept walking.
I heard him come after me but I took off. As I walked away, I heard from behind me, “I am sorry. At least let me have your digits…” Wait… Did I hear him right? He said digits. I stopped and looked back but he was long gone. I should have just stopped and given him my digits. This would probably be one of the stories of how people met in the strangest places. Ours would have been how we met at the toiletry aisle. But why didn’t I just stop when he called out? Why???
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