Catch-up
The first time I saw him, he was digging ketchup out of a bottle with a knife. The only reason I noticed him was because the girl he was with was beautiful. Long, blonde hair and eyes likes moons-wide and bright. I was with my husband and we were one of those couples that look miserable when we went out. The couple past its prime that the first daters hope they never become. I was wiggling my straw around the ice in my glass, trying to get the last remaining drops of watered down diet coke out-not because I was thirsty, but because I had nothing else to do. I certainly didn’t want to look across the table.
The ketchup guy was doing it all wrong. I started to get agitated watching him. Hopefully his girlfriend would help him out. She was staring blindly out the window, apparently deep in thought, as he tried to get the too-thick knife into the bottle as his greasy hamburger lay below him, naked and dry. I liked to mind my own business but soon I was going to have to intervene. Clink, clink, clink, sigh. He was getting frustrated, and so was I. I stood up and walked over to his table. He was ready to accept my help, looking up at me in expectation. I grabbed the bottle and hit it smack dab on the label, 2/3 of the way down. A gob of ketchup hit his plate and I handed the bottle to him. “Hit it here and aim,” I said. He looked flustered and relieved at the same time. He gave me a half smile and I walked away. My husband didn’t comment.
6 months later, I was at work needing help setting up an email account for a promotion we were working on. We were holding a photography contest for senior citizens and I needed a box set up where they could email their entries-photos of the good old days. I felt a presence behind me and turned around (isn’t it funny how you just know when someone is hovering). It was him, blushing first and then stuttering. Where did this guy come from? Did he work here? “You need help with an email box?” Oh yes, the new help desk guy. He helped me and never mentioned the ketchup.
Months went by and we didn’t talk. I was divorced by now and dating a man much older than me, but nice and attractive. Ketcup guy would give me looks when we passed on the sidewalk-coming and going from smoking cigarettes, or whatever he was doing out there. He was young. I happened by his cubicle one day and saw a photograph of two young children, blonde.
One day I finally asked him “How’s your pretty, blonde girlfriend?” He blushed and walked away, not answering me. I gave up on him. I only have enough stamina to give them one chance and that was it. Later that afternoon, I got an email “You’re the ketchup girl!” and I emailed back “and your’e the ketchup guy.” I was flattered he called me a”girl” even though I was clearly far from being a girl. He asked me out and I said no. I’m smart enough to never follow a gorgeous blonde, especially one who has given birth to his children.
