I, for one, like my man to smell of blood and chest-bumping

By: epluribusgeenum

Feb 22 2009

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Category: Things that keep my blood warm

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A tidbit I received in my inbox today from my dear friend Ashique, who has always treated women in a very unique way:

I was out grocery shopping for my mom, and I realized I really like taking a list that she makes, searching hard for the specific items, and picking them up.  And it suddenly hit me that I would absolutely love doing this with a list my wife makes one day.  I cannot understand why so many men seem to loathe going to the grocery store alone.  They should be fucking honored that they get to pick up the things their wife wanted. That’s the closest thing you get to being a real man these days, other than kicking ass or hunting and bringing home real game, but that’s another story.

I actually like going to the grocery store with my significant other… although in that situation, lists sometimes get in the way of having stupid fun on shopping carts and finding odd items and trying them out.  I haven’t been to the gro’ sto’ with a boyfriend in awhile.  When I get into shopping-with-a-purpose mode though, I’m kind of hard to perturb.  Plus, I get overwhelmed by the sheer smorgasbord of options (have you ever been in the salad dressing aisle of H-E-B? Once, I got stuck there for about 20 minutes. No lie.) That is, unless the other person is game for fun. 

Oh, how I do miss my friend Ashique.  Together we’ve made some excellent memories in the most mundane places.  A particular trip to Wal-mart with our friend Benaiah stands out to me as one of the best times someone can have in a boring town where Wal-Mart counts an option for a hang-out.  We spent the afternoon shopping for packs of feminine napkins and anything else that would instantly make our purchases as an ensemble incredibly awkward.  I think we picked up peanut butter, too, if I remember correctly. 

Why yes, it was a gay ol’ time.  Welcome to small-town Texas.

Benaiah needs all that Kotex for his heavy flow. And the wheelchair was a nice touch.

That was nearly four years ago.  Talk about a blast from the mf-in’ past!  But hey, how do you know where you’re going if you don’t look back every once in awhile?  Sometimes I take a figurative gander at myself and wonder why I am not that goofy person all the time.  It makes for much better days.  Work, work, work.  I’m workin’ on it. 

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