Wesley Snipes at the Sandwich Shop? Who knew?

So, the past few days have been uneventful. Not only have I not met any new weirdos (a feat in itself,) but the old weirdos have ceased contact.

I started to get a bit worried.

I mean, really, how much fun is a dating blog if the main characteress doesn't date?

Enter yesterday.

Yesterday morning, as I realized that I had not been grocery shopping in more than a month and that I had funneled through all the emergency foodstuff supplies in my pantry and freezer, I found myself on the phone with a local deli ordering breakfast, lunch and dinner. Ten minutes later, I found myself speedily zipping through school zones (thank God for police scanners and phenomenal perephial vision) so I could pick up my wares before I had to be at work.

I rush into the deli where there is a piece of rich, gorgeous, chocolatey deliciousness waiting for me. And,as I was debaing on whether or not to purchase what was going to be a decadent piece of chocolate cheesecake in walked a guy who was mirror image of Wesley Snipes.

No, seriously. And, I mean sexy Nino Brown, Passenger 57 Wesley Snipes, not tax-evading-kinda-creepy-anti-government-hide-out-in-Africa Wesley Snipes.

I say to Snipealike, "Do you know who you look like?"
Snipealike rolls his eyes.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," I continue, with a smile.

"Let me guess...hmmmm...Wesley Snipes?" he asks.

"Um.....no...." I trail off, scanning my brain for another potential contender. But, damn, the guy looked like Wesley Snipes. "You look like....that other guy..." I say,

"OK, Jill Scott," he replies, and we both laugh.

At this point, my breakfastlunchdinner order is ready, so I pay, exit and skedaddle to the car.

As I'm not late for work, I decide that I don't have time to actually turn the car around into drive, so I throw her into reverse, and reverse out the parking spot, through the parking lot, and into the street. While this is happening, I glimpse into the rear-view mirror and I see Wesley Snipes cracking up at my inventive driving.

Like doubled over, cracking up.

At this point, there's nothing else to do but smile, so I do and wave. As I'm waving, Wesley Snipes is making the international gesture for telephone: you know, thumb and pinky extended, to form a telephone that spans the space between one's ears and mouth.

Well, what do do? Should I stop and go back to Wesley? Or, should I zip away?

Find out later. :)
Evelyn Parkside