Next Time I’ll Remember

Okay, this is nothing earth-shattering, but I still have to share. I got picked up today – or rather, this guy tried to pick me up. I’m a married woman, so I wasn’t interested, of course. But in retrospect, I guess I should be flattered.

I was in McDonald’s, where I sometimes go in the mornings if I’m out and about. I always sit in one of the booths and read the newspaper, while I drink a diet Coke and eat a high-fibre muffin. Today, for the first time, all the booths were taken, so I grabbed the closest table where I plonked down the tray, then went to the drink machine where I filled my large-sized cup.

A gentleman occupied one table over from me, and I silently groaned I had to sit out in the open instead of hidden within the safety of a booth, especially with him so close. I immediately knew he was going to talk to me.

“Hi there. Nice day, eh?”

I barely glanced at him and mumbled a disinterested “yeah,” hoping he’d get the message. Even if I had been on the prowl, I wouldn’t be interested in him.

But, nope, he didn’t get the hint.

“Looks like rain.”

“Maybe,” I said, without looking up. I kept my eyes glued to the newspaper and ate a chunk of muffin. I didn’t want to lead him on, nor did I want to innocently converse with him. I’m not a morning person, and I just wanted to eat, drink and read in peace. I noticed my left hand and chastised myself I had forgotten my wedding ring.

I thought back to all the years I was single. I had never been picked up – not once. Why now, when I’m married and in my sixties? I’m positive I haven’t improved with age.

I didn’t enjoy my breakfast this morning. I was uncomfortable sitting there while that guy kept looking at me. I didn’t want to chat with anyone; I wanted anonymity – and quiet.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I drove off.

I’ll remember to wear my wedding ring next time I’m out and about.



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