Another supermarket tale. Maybe it is me, or maybe it is the kind of town I live in. It was one of those situations where you have a chance encounter with a fellow shopper – I think on this occasion it was a tricky trolley manoeuver near the fruit and vegetables – and then have further encounters with them during your respective journeys through the store. Our blossoming relationship came into full flower by the cold meat counter.
I was patiently waiting my turn, sizing up the various bacon options, and my new female companion took it upon herself to inform the man behind the counter that we were not together. She then explained to me that she did not want my position in the queue to be disadvantaged by any misapprehensions the man serving may have had about our relationship. She then went on to say that she would not personally have anything against being in a relationship with me, that in fact she would quite like a “toy boy”.
Suddenly the bacon options ceased to have any importance as I tried to come to terms with being on the shopping list. I was born too long ago to qualify as a toy boy, yet here I was caught in a deli counter encounter that I would later recount with quiet satisfaction. Sadly, I’m more Inaction Man than Action Man, more Let go than Lego, and more Bob the Bodger than Bob the Builder.