I love fall! I love men in their jeans, with their sweaters and their hats. I love that they let some facial hair grow and wear flannel shirts and boots with their jeans. I love fall – everyone looking toasty warm and comfortable. I adore men in their blue jeans. I love that they smell like the outdoors.
I walk up to the meat counter to place and order and the guy beside me looks over to move aside and then looks at me like I stepped on his foot, a bit confused and agitated, but then he smiled. I smiled. The young woman came up to take my order; I do not eat pork but Braunschweiger is an exception.
This man then begins to stare at me smiling. I smile back and nod my head. I watch the girl attempt to thinly slice my ‘meat’. “You aren’t from around here” a voice said. I looked over to make sure it was coming from him and I laughed “and you can tell that by the way I ordered my meat?” “Actually yes, you said it properly and with a great accent” he said. “Well done, I am not from around here and I am very passionate about my liver” I laughed.
A young man handed him his order and asked if there was anything else and he looked over at me and said “Yes, I would like some Braunschweiger as well please” and all I could do was laugh a little as I said “now I can tell you have been to places other than here”
“You said please” I said as a matter of fact. We both laughed because it was the truth, I love small town America but it is rare you hear ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ often. I took my order from the young woman and bid him enjoy his and went about my shopping.
I ran into him again over some vegetables and he then appeared again down the aisle with coffee. It is a small store there was nothing to it until I reached in to the fridge to get myself some milk. “So how do you eat this stuff anyway?” he said holding out the package of meat.
“I eat mine on nice piece of homemade bread, toasted, with cut mustard and sometimes I like it on crackers. It is nothing more than a pate but this is in a casing” as we stood there talking I realized I was alone; my husband was nowhere to be found. We talked for a few moments and found that we had both spent some time in Germany.
“My name is Alex and this is very forward of me but could I ask you for your number. I might need to call for other German food recommendations” he was still smiling and it was very flattering but that was when I noticed his jeans. I was very obvious as I looked him over from boot to head – his long hair was lightly tied back and a few messy curls lay on the collar of his plaid shirt under his thick knit sweater. He was either growing facial hair or kept a purposeful scruffy look but he was cute. He looked great in his jeans and he smelt like the outdoors.
“My name is xXx and it’s nice to meet you. It is really nice of you to ask. I am married but that doesn’t mean my husband would mind you calling for German recipes, he lived there for a while too.” I was being polite, trying to give him important information about being married without being an idiot about it and a graceful out.
“Well if he wouldn’t mind then” his smile changed but only in a good way.
So I gave him my number but no, I do not expect him to call. It did however make my day and once again I found pleasure in the change of the season.