I want something. But I don't know what.
Do men ever have this problem? Probably not.
Ice cream? Pizza? Cookies and milk?
Certainly nothing "healthy" for a midnight snack. Of course even though I just spent $150 on groceries, there is nothing in the house to eat.
DAMMIT.
I'll never get to sleep if I don't find something to rid myself of this craving.
I slip on jeans and a t-shirt, socks, my shit kicker boots... I am the commando queen, so no undies. I gather my hair in a messy ponytail, no point trying be fashionable at midnight.
In a minute I am on my Harley headed for the nearest convenience store. It's a nice evening at least, and late enough there is almost no traffic.
I pull the bike into the darkened parking lot of Busy Butchies. It's a small place, but they should have something guaranteed to make me gain 5 pounds over night.
I walk through the door, nod to the clerk, who is looking at me like I mean to rob the place. "No worries, just a snack attack." I say. He visibly relaxes.
Geez, I don't think I look THAT bad.
I start down an aisle, but stop abruptly as a pizza box comes sliding across the floor at me. I put the toe of my boot on it to stop it and look up to see a guy about my age, maybe younger, standing at the other end of the aisle, arms full of junk food.
If the look on his face is any indication, if I stomped my foot, he'd piss down both legs.
I bend over and pick up the box, "Yours?" I say as I hold it out toward him.
He nods, mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish out of water. I walk down the aisle to him and help rearrange the load in his arms to accommodate the box.
"Ummnn, thanks." he stammers. He isn't a bad looking guy. Actually pretty cute in a nerdy, 4.0 GPA kind of way. Khaki shorts, polo shirt, sandals with no socks, thank you Jesus.
And surprisingly enough, he appears well built. A couple of inches taller than me, dark curly hair, brown eyes, and a days worth of stubble that takes the edge off his whole preppy look.
"You too?" I ask.
"Me what?" he looks around like he isn't sure I am talking to him.
"Junk food craving?" I say, motioning toward his arm load.
"Oh. That, yea..." he nods in agreement.