I didn't realize until last summer that craptastic off-brand toys aren't the only thing you can get at Family Dollar. No No...for me Family Dollar is the new match.com and I am always at the top of my fellow shoppers search rankings apparently. Anytime I go at least one fella is going to ask for my number, and I'm always willing to bet my White Rain conditioner that they would blow me up on their Tracfone if I gave it to them. Lucky for me these aren't the kind of guys all obsessed with fancy things like big named cell phone carriers or cars...or deodorant....or... teeth. These aren't flashy guys all caught up in changing their shirts just because there are a few holes in it or the dog pissed all over it. No, these guys are happy with the finer things in life, brown tipped cigarettes, a tall boy, and a good woman. That's where I come in.
I'm not sure what exactly it is about me that draws them in. I know that my sweatpants from 97' are pretty hot, so that's probably part of it. Every time I pull them on and head out to the Family Dollar I secretly spend a moment in the mirror, prepping myself for the attention they bring. I don't mean to brag, its just that you can only hear, "Damn girl.. you have a NICE fat booty" so many times before it gets to your head.
Maybe its the glasses. The last guy that asked for my number hinted at it.
"I like your glasses. You must be one of them smart girls. Damn. A fat booty and you smart. I like you. You got a boyfriend?"
He was nice. It didn't bother me that his eyes didn't look in the same direction, that way he could get a glimpse of my glasses and my ass at the same time. It might have been true love but he was buying those really hard iced oatmeal cookies and I knew I couldn't be with anyone with such an unrefined palette...they even had Softbatch cookies at this Family Dollar, what was he thinking?
Perhaps my biggest "what might have been," Family Dollar romance was the one that happened just this past summer. I must have caught his attention when I pulled into the lot. Either that or he was hoping I could give him a jump because a lot of smoke was coming out from under his hood and various liquids were pooling underneath it. I parked far away, but only because I was worried that the 3 inch long ash from his half smoked GPC was going to fall into one of those pools and blow us all to pieces. I dashed into the store hopeful that Swiss Vanilla wasn't the only St. Ives bodywash scent left. It wasn't until I was leaving the store that he approached me.
"Baby girl" "Hey" "Hey".
I pretended not to hear him by talking to Kellen. Unfortunately Kellen was quick to point out that "that man over there" was talking to me. Get in the van son. Get in the van. It was too late, he was starting to walk toward us. I walked behind the back of my van to get to my door and jumped in. Now he was yelling and motioning me to roll down my window. I tried to smile and wave and pretend I couldn't tell what he was doing but he was not a quitter...no sir. Actually I already knew that because by looking at the oil and sweat stains on his wifebeater he had been working on that car since March at least. I could also tell that he didn't take the easy way out just by looking at his hair. Most men that prefer not to wash or comb their hair would simply shave it off. Not this guy. He was gonna keep his braids, even if he wasn't able to have them redone since his car broke down in March.
Unlike the other guy, I was 100% sure he was talking to me because his eyes were both on me as he walked over. Maybe I could get past the long yellow fingernails, maybe he was too busy working on his car to mess with them...and maybe it wasn't such a big deal that you could pot a plant in the dirt under them...I like flowers. And the way he let his cigarette slide between his teeth where his incisor should be seemed like a practical use of space. At least he covered the few teeth he had in gold...that way if those didn't make it he could at least make a nice locket. Despite all of these qualities, a spark was missing...not just from his ignition but also in my heart.
As he walked toward my van I slipped the gold band that my mom gave me on to my ring finger, preparing for my way out. He didn't bother with small talk, he just went right to the point.
"Hey...Hey...you gonna give me your number or what girl?"
I held up my ring..."I'm married...sorry" I said with a smile.
His head dropped, his shiny smile fading. He just shook his head and said, "Aww man...some guys have all the luck."
As I drove away I couldn't help thinking about what he said. I realized that Family Dollar was so much more than just a spruced up flea market that really isn't any cheaper than the other stores. It was more than a safe haven for shitty Chinese imports that somehow escaped all safety and FDA regulations. It was a place where I was a star. It was a place where glasses and fat butts were appreciated. It was a place so sure of itself that they print the store name and price right on the box so that you can't even lie about where you got it.
Correction sir...I have all the luck. I have all the luck AND a body wash that doesn't really smell like what it claims to but was $2.00 flat so I went for it...
P.S. I saw your car sitting there stripped down to damn near the frame until like October so I'm sorry you couldn't get her started...but you always have your teeth to fall back on.
