Dear Charming Stranger at Target,
It was an ordinary Tuesday—one of those days when I was running low on essentials, patience, and a touch of glamour. I ventured into Target, my go-to escape, and I sensed it was your haven too. I noticed you hustling toward the dinnerware aisle, hand in hand with a delightful little girl—a clear sign you were a man with a purpose. You seemed to understand the unwritten rule that kids have a limited shopping window, and you were on a tight schedule.
Your confident stride hinted at a seasoned shopper, and I have to admit, it left me a bit weak at the knees. As you paused in the housewares section, I decided to move a little closer. After all, I could always use another stemless wine glass or a chic marble cutting board. I couldn’t help but notice the vibrant tattoos adorning your arm, sparking my curiosity and prompting me to quicken my pace. Normally, I don’t chase after men, but let’s be honest—some things are worth the effort.
You radiated a kind of allure that wasn’t over-the-top—more humble and understated. When I saw you reach for a white platter (oh, how I adore white dinnerware), I wanted to share my own collection with you, but I hesitated. Striking up a conversation about my fondness for large white dishes felt too forward, even desperate. I could picture myself saying something awkward like, “If you like that platter, just wait until you see it with my delicious baked treats on it.” Clearly, I’m not cut out for the subtle art of flirting.
Moreover, I hadn’t yet spotted a ring on your left hand, and I wanted to ensure I wasn’t seeing things through the rosy lens that Target tends to provide. So, I opted to admire you from a distance, pretending to be interested in the three bags of Baked Lay’s I had tossed into my cart.
The sweet little girl by your side patiently waited as you browsed, which suggested that this was a regular outing for you—and that made my heart flutter. As you picked up a stack of white square plates (let’s envision a life decorating a home together), I finally confirmed that your left hand was ring-free.
At that moment, I felt a surge of confidence and moved a bit closer, ready to speak with you. But instead, I just kept walking. When our eyes locked across the kitchen utensils, and we both took a moment to bite down on our Starbucks straws, I experienced a rush of butterflies that made my stomach churn. It was an electrifying blend of excitement and anxiety. I wanted to leap into your arms, yet I felt like running away at the same time.
As I checked out, I reflected on the possibility of us being destined to share a kiss in aisle 6, build a cozy home together, decorate it with all things from Target, and enjoy lasagna served on our pristine white plates. I imagined us dining at a Mexican restaurant, enjoying a few too many margaritas, then heading out for an impromptu shopping spree at Target on a carefree Friday night.
Just as I was about to leave, I caught a glimpse of you at the Dollar Spot—watching me as I attempted to maneuver my cart through the automatic doors, only to embarrassingly bump into them. I wanted to turn around and run to you, but I felt that moment slip away.
Regrettably, I drove off, wishing I had summoned the courage to speak to you while you were juggling dishes with your tattooed arms. I kicked myself for not knowing the art of a charming wink, and I doubted my decision to walk away. Perhaps I should have pretended to forget something and turned back.
Instead, I munched on a whole bag of Baked Lay’s on my way home. Maybe we’ll cross paths again, or perhaps this was our only encounter. Regardless, we’ll always have that fleeting moment in Target. But if fate brings me back to you, and you’re tenderly caressing a pillow, just know—I’m ready.
Yours,
The woman who regrets not seizing the moment.