Make Mine Mike

The other night, my girlfriend said, “Some guy hit on me at the supermarket.”

“Cool,” I said.

I don’t remember what I was doing at the moment, but most likely it happened right after Adelphia told me she had to do some work, which meant she couldn’t hang out and chat with me, so while she was typing away crazily and fuming at some crazy co-workers’ crazy voicemail message, I was supposed to pretend I was still living alone, and since scratching private parts wasn’t part of the deal, I was proabably watching "American Dad", knowing Adelphia hates that show like I hate her beloved "America's Next Top Model" which to me is no contest 'cause Tyra Banks doesn't ever have lines like, "Everyone hates me. I feel like a Jew outside of New York or LA."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Hunh? Oh yeah," I said. "Some guy hit on you."

"At the supermarket."

"What did you do?"

"I ignored him."

I nodded and went back to my silly animated show. But I could sense Adelphia still looking at me.

What? Did she want me to be jealous? I take it as a compliment. My girlfriend's hot. I already know this, but sometimes it's reassuring to hear it from others.

In my opinion, one of the nicest things anyone said about Adelphia came when I was about to move in with her. Excited, but a little nervous, I asked my friend Mike if I was making a good move.

"Like, she's cool, huh?" I said, "And she's funny and cute and sexy and all that, right?"

Mike nodded. "I'd do her."

So it didn't bother me that some stranger had the same idea. Can't blame a guy for trying.

But Adelphia wasn't trying to make me jealous. She was confused by the location. Her old Rock N' Roll Ralph's was full of late-night partiers with a case of the munchies, not dudes bringing new meaning to the term "meat market", cruising the frozen foods for chicks. "I mean, who hits on people at Albertson's? That's lame."

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. There's a lot of hot girls at the supermarket near us. I once saw Marley Shelton there, leafing through the gossip mags. I heard she's married, but if not and maybe if it were back when I was on the prowl...

"So what'd the guy say to hit on you?" I said, "Lemme guess -- it was in the produce section and he made some double entendre about squeezing melons or the size of his zucchini."

"No..."

"He said, 'Attention shoppers! Special on hot tamales in aisle six!'"

"No--"

"'If your cuteness was coupons... talk about savings!' Or -- ooh, how 'bout: 'I'm ready to pay for my groceries, but I'm not done checking you out!'"

"Would you stop? He kept running into me by accident, supposedly, and then said, 'We have to stop meeting like this.'"

"Pfft. That is lame."