The Boyfriend Blog

Calvin sets the laundry basket down and pulls me in for a hug. “I’d love to stay and talk about our feelings, but I’ve got work that needs to be done, and you still have four loads of laundry to do. I’ll drop this one off at your apartment, but there’s still one more load in Lizzie’s bathroom. Now”—he cuffs the side of my arm—“go get your girl.”

8

Lizzie

I found out why I’m single. Apparently, you have to go outside and let people see you. Who knew that was even a thing? —Liz

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

I yank down the sun visor and cringe when I see my face. Even after an hour at the coffee shop with the girls, my cheeks are still red from hot yoga, and my hair is a wild mess. I should’ve showered before coming here.

A quick glance at my watch shows that it’s almost five. I’m afraid that if I go home and shower, I’ll get lazy and won’t leave again. Screw it. I pull my hair from the messy knot, run my fingers through it, and spend a few minutes putting it in a bun on my head. When I think it’s good enough, I shrug and slip out of the car.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s so much easier to pull up an app, log in to a profile, and swipe left. Or right, depending on the app. But I don’t want easy, I want a man, and if Edna thinks this will work, then I’m going to trust her. Why shouldn’t I? The woman has a lifetime of experience and was married to the same guy for years and years. She must know something that I don’t.

“Hello,” an older man says when I walk into the grocery store.

“Hi.” I smile and walk past him. I reach for a cart but decide to go for a basket instead because I only need a few things.

I tuck my arm through the handles and set off for the first thing on my list. Body wash. Aisle eight. I find what I’m looking for right away, and when I turn for aisle nine, I slam into another customer. He must’ve had his arms full because various products go sliding across the floor.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I bend down and grab the bag of cotton balls he dropped.

When I stand up to hand them to him, he’s smiling at me. It’s a big, white smile, like the ones in those tooth-whitening commercials, and I don’t hesitate to smile back.

“It was my fault,” he says, reaching for the cotton balls. “My name is Stephen.”

“Lizzie.”

Oh. My. God. Edna was right. This is great. Not five minutes into my grocery store trip, and I’ve already found a handsome man. I don’t know a darn thing about him, except that he likes… “Are those chips yours?” I say, grabbing the Doritos off the floor. They must’ve fallen when I plowed into him. “Cool Ranch is my favorite.”

“Mine, too.” Piling the chips on top of the cotton balls, he frees up a hand and bends to grab something else that had fallen. “Hemorrhoid cream,” he says, waving the tube as he stands up.

“Oh, uh…”

“It’s okay, I’m not ashamed to admit that I have hemorrhoids.”

“Right. Yeah, you shouldn’t be ashamed at all.”

“The doctor says it’s from the anal sex toys I use, but I’m not convinced.”

TMI.

Abort! Abort!

I pull my basket up higher on my arm, holding it in front of me as though it’ll make me invisible. “Well, I hope you’re able to get them healed.”

With the tiniest of waves, I flit around him.

“Wait, Lizzie. Lizzie!”

I ignore him calling out to me and duck down another aisle and then another and another until I’m certain I’ve lost him. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against hemorrhoids or anal sex toys, but…no. It’s too soon for us to have that conversation.

Maybe the food aisle is a safer bet. A few kids run by, knocking into a center display. Their mom yells after them to slow down and, rather than get trampled, I move out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t control them. They’re little banshees.”

“It’s okay.” I smile as she hustles after them.