I envied the literary couples as I left Barnes & Noble.  There were at least three pair of them (and a man in a skirt running, but that’s a different blog).  Holding hands and having conversations I couldn’t hear.  I have always wanted to be one-half of a literary couple.  What does that feel like?  What conversations do they have?  Do they split up and go to different sections once inside the store, like a divide and conquer concept? They look so happy.  I mean, duh, they are obviously part of the world population that is getting laid and walking into a store that sells coffee and books.  Why the hell wouldn’t they smile?! My best friend Barry and I used to go to bookstores all the time together in high school and college. That’s the closest I’ve ever had to sharing the bookstore with someone.  This has always been a desire and yet unfulfilled.  I want to hold hands and and not be alone in the store with both coffee and books.  

I watched them and wondered about their relationship and how they came to be such happy, cute literary couples. And then, as I unlocked my car door, I smirked.  The irony of this world is that you have no idea who may be watching you and envying your life.  I stood apart from these other patrons in the parking lot.  Not simply because I was single, but they all looked as if they had not been to work today (or they don’t dress like I do for work) and here I was looking uber professional.  So it here was that the girl in a dress that was originally marked well over $100, a beautiful and originally exorbitantly priced blazer, cubic zirconia jewelry (no one knows that) (ok, now everyone knows that), a $6,000 watch, dress pumps, and a plastic bag containing the poetry of Charles Bukowski was eyeing these people in awe.

I don’t mean to sound like “hey look at me, I’m the only pretty girl in Gulfport”–not at all, we all know that’s false–but I mean if you’d look around at us and had to guess what was going through our minds, it probably wasn’t that.  In fact, seeing as how life works so oddly, it would not surprise me at all if one of the couples wasn’t discussing how pathetic my life must be to have to dress up everyday and wear a tub of makeup.  And now I’ve gone off in a whole tangent of a paragraph feeling the need to justify what I felt was ironic.  Kinda takes away from the irony doesn’t it?

Anywho, I’m leaving the desire to meet a guy who wants to go to the bookstore with me on the bucket list.  But for now, diving into my Bukowski.  He gets it.  Me and Bukowski in the bookstore….there’s a novella waiting to happen.