I was pretty far gone when there was a knock at my window. Your Cute Guy. He was still standing there. He seemed embarrassed by the whole situation, almost physically pained to have to deal with me. He said, “I feel like I should call your husband,” all firm and determined. (I was just a little bit hurt that he assumed I had a husband. It was kind of like being called “madame” when you still feel like a “mademoiselle.”)
I kept saying that I would be fine, and then he said, “If somebody that I cared about was crying alone in a parking lot this late at night, I would want somebody to call me.”
That’s just what he said. Isn’t that nice?
I told him that he was right, that I wasn’t fine, but that I would be, and I promised to go home. For a minute, it seemed like he wasn’t going to let me leave, like he was just going to keep standing there with his hand on my window. Which would have made sense—my eyes were swollen to slits, and I probably seemed like I was ready to drive off a cliff.
But he nodded his head, handed me his McDonald’s bag (?) and walked away.
I did leave then. I went home and ate his two cheeseburgers (extra pickles) while I was waiting for Mitch, who, I should note, was actually relieved to see me crying. I think he was beginning to think I was either inhumanly cold or silently imploding.
I pretty much cried all night. I looked so puffy and splotchy when I came in to work this morning that I told Danielle I’d had an allergic reaction to shellfish.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> You should have stayed home.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I don’t want anyone to start wondering why I’ve been taking so many sick days.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> If they knew, they’d gladly give you some time off.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. Actually, that’s not true, I feel like the entire world should feel sorry for me. I’m pathetic and I’m miserable. But I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me if it means they have to think about my uterus.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Do you feel better today? Relieved to have let some of it out?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I don’t know. I still don’t want to talk about it.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> But we can talk about My Cute Guy, right?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Ad nauseam.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> I can’t believe you met him. I’ve been following him around for months without making more than passing eye contact, and you actually met him. And you didn’t just meet.
You had a meet-cute. Is it warped for me to be jealous of you right now?
<<Jennifer to Beth>> What’s a meet-cute?
<<Beth to Jennifer>> It’s the moment in a movie when the romantic leads meet. They never just meet normally. It’s never like, “Harry, meet Sally. Sally, this is Harry.” They always meet in a cute way, like, “Hey, you just got chocolate in my peanut butter!” / “What are you talking about? You just got peanut butter in my chocolate!”
Having a handsome man rescue you (crying in the rain in the parking lot), change your tire, and share his French fries, that’s very meet-cute.
Damn it, I was supposed to have the meet-cute.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Your meet-cute would have gone like this, “Hey, you got chocolate in my peanut butter!” / “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.”
Also, I feel like I should point out that it was freezing rain. Freezing rain isn’t cute.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> You still got to see him with wet hair …
So, break it down for me, what was your lasting impression of him? It seems like you thought he was weird.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> I wouldn’t say weird. I would say awkward, kind of shy. He seemed really uncomfortable—like only his chivalry and common decency were keeping him from walking away.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> So, awkward, chivalrous, decent …
<<Jennifer to Beth>> And very nice. It was a kind thing to stop and to stay until I pulled myself together. A lot of guys would have kept walking or, at best, called 911.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Awkward, chivalrous, decent, kind …
<<Jennifer to Beth>> And really, really cute. You weren’t exaggerating. Not Sears-model cute.
More of an old-fashioned cute. And he got cuter, the more I looked at him. He’s built like a tank. I half expected him to lift my car with his hands.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> Built like a tank, dressed like he just won the science fair. How cute is that guy.
<<Jennifer to Beth>> Very cute.
<<Beth to Jennifer>> So, I’m totally going to start parking in the gravel lot. You know that, right?