Match Made in Heaven

I knew we were a match the moment she looked at me across the aisle. I was grabbing some rice cakes and she was grabbing some form of non-vegan mayo.

It’s ok, we can forgive that for now… So long as she doesn’t think of giving this to our future child, we’ll be fine 🙂

She moved away, so typical of her, to be a flirt, but not in a trashy way. So I “chased” her around the supermarket. At first she was acting as if she couldn’t see me, and then she was obviously aroused by it. I can tell those things…

She would look back to see if I was there, and we played a sexy form of hide and seek, it was awesome. She really knows how to turn me on.

We’re such a match, except for I noticed that she had a bottle of wine in her basket, not ideal, but also not something that can’t be worked out with a bit of compassionate talk and understanding – drinking leads to unhealthy skin and so many other terrible ailements.

I decide that these kind of matches are not the kind you come round often, so I just abandon my cart (I put the frozen stuff away, I’m not an animal), and head out to wait for her. She hasn’t seen me exit the supermarket.

She comes out, I can see the worry on her face, she too knows that we’re a match made in heaven, she too can feel it. Poor her, she must be thinking that she’s missed her chance!

I follow her to her car, not in a creepy way; I decide to appear in front of her, to not startle her.

That. Fucking. Fat. Ugly. Bitch. She ruined my favorite shirt with the pepper spray she drenched me in. I didn’t even get her name! So fucking ungrateful. All I said was that she had pretty hair. It wasn’t that pretty anyway.

 

match

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