I have grown fond of my girlfriend, Michelle. She provides intellectual stimulus and comic relief, all in a shape which I find pleasing.
One thing I will never grow fond of, however, is the act of shopping. Growing up with a mother that could spend 5 hours in a grocery store having gone in with the intention of buying bread ("I'll only be a minute") has utterly negated that possibility. Shopping is hazardous to my mental faculties and must be avoided at all costs. It makes me want to sacrifice a virgin. If I think of something I need, I attempt to rationalize my way out of needing it, and if pressed, I will buy it on Amazon, immediately, using an app on my phone, such that only a few seconds of shopping takes place.
Suffice it to say, I don't like to shop.
There was a day, not very long ago, when Michelle and I were walking through an outdoor outlet mall in Terrell, Texas. It must be said that it is difficult to avoid shopping when one is in the middle of a place specifically designed to house goods for sale, but our choices that day were a) Go to the outlet mall, or b) Do nothing.
Rural Texas is not exactly an interesting place.Unless you're on a horse.
Our first order of business was to go to a popular clothing chain and find clothes suitable for pirates, because Michelle had been toying with the idea of working in a Renaissance Fair. This idea was fanciful enough that it made shopping fun, so we walked about in Women's Clothing (It's not the first time I've walked about in Women's Clothing.) hand in hand. After a time, we found an ensemble that we felt was piratical enough, but having spent some time thinking about it, Michelle was getting cold feet. She decided that she wasn't sure if she wanted to be a pirate (something we all must come to grips with at one point in our lives) and that she would hide the clothes in a corner and come back to get them later when she made a decision.
I was having fun in her company and enjoying the exercise. After all, the outlet mall isn't a small place, and I love to take walks.
Unbeknownst to me, there was a Very Small Accountant living in the back of my brain (next door to Chicken Express) who tallies and calculates how I spend my time. He made a mental note (living in my brain, what other kind of notes would he make?) about the time that was spent, and the lack of result since the clothes were not purchased, which qualified this shopping trip as a Waste Of Time. He then filed this note and took a stack of similar pages to his superiors.
Had I known what the accountant was writing, I would have summarily disagreed. But then, all this was unbeknownst to me. Not beknownst to me.
We left the clothing store and walked around in a few other stores before deciding that it was time to go to my apartment and watch movies. We walked the length of the outlet mall, back to where the car had been parked.
When we passed by the clothing store again, Michelle saw a passing whim and leapt upon it. "Let's go back in here. I'll only be a minute."
Having just got back from Chicken Express, the Very Small Accountant had started crunching the numbers. He noticed similarities between this unfolding event and previous ones. "Where did I put that file?" he asked. He ran back to his superiors and grabbed the note off a desk. "I might lose my job for this, but I have to see something... Yes. There it is. Based on this evidence, I would say that there is a 35% chance that this will be a Waste Of Time."
"Are you sure?" his superiors asked.
"I'd stake my job on it. 35% is enough of a risk that something must be done."
"Very well. I'll put a call through to Silliness up in Creativity. He'll take care of this."
I was walking with my hand on Michelle's shoulder, allowing her to lead me wherever she liked. Suddenly, I looked up and past the walls, slightly crossing my eyes and opening them wider.
"I'm blind," I smiled.
Michelle turned and looked at me quizzically.
"You are my seeing-eye girlfriend. I'm blind."
She disagreed with my appraisal of the situation, and began to walk away. I kept up the charade, holding on to her shoulder and lightly bumping into the racks of clothing, eyes vacant and unfocused.
"I don't like this game. Stop it," she said. "What do you think of this blouse?"
"Describe it to me."
"What?"
"I'm blind. Describe it to me."
"Just look at the blouse."
"What?" I asked, offended.
"Just look at the blouse."
"You don't know what it's like to live with a disability. This isn't something to joke about."
"I'm going to kill you so hard." she planned aloud.
"You would threaten someone in my condition?" I asked loudly.
Nervous glances from other customers. My peripheral vision was improving.
She smiled daggers at me.
We walked on. Past a little girl who looked up at my empty, light-blue eyes. She turned to ask her mother what the crazy man was doing. "Shhhh! He's blind, sweetie. That means he can't see. That girl is leading him around the store."
Michelle and I both knew that if we broke character now, we would be thrown out of the store.
We hid in a distant aisle and laughed wildly.
"Aren't you afraid you're going to run into someone you know?"
"I already did. But no one wants to look at me. It makes them uncomfortable"
People were going around the racks of clothes in inconvenient ways, just because they were afraid to ask if they could get by. The cashier avoided talking to me entirely, only recognizing Michelle.
In truth, I began to feel for people with disabilities.
Michelle asked me, "Are you going to quit this after we get out of here?"
"Yes," I replied, grinning.
"I hate you a little less."
We walked out to the parking lot, the end in sight (as it were).
"Oh my gosh.You know what would be the perfect end to this?" I realized aloud.
"What? Everyone is still watching!" she exclaimed.
"I know. I should totally get in the driver's seat and drive away."
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