Mostly rambles, few brambles
Tag Archives: sex
This post originally ran on Slackjaw on 1/5/2021
Who can say for certain what the burly, wedding-ring-toting, there-with-his-teenage-son guy was thinking or fantasizing. Maybe I’m naïve, but — like I’ve since repeated, Dad — I think he was just feeling good, cruising the Meat Department, saw the package of steaks in our cart, and felt like sending along a jolly, “Nice beef you got there, partner.”
I’ll agree it’s odd to comment on other shoppers’ carts, even if the contents are particularly handsome, but it’s far more deviant to seek romance within the chilly, visceral Costco meat-scape. Be your desires a lifelong companionship or an erotic dalliance with wholesale dick, there are far better places and holes to bait, to trawl, and to chum up than the sexless noon hour on Sample Saturday.
Our stranger didn’t confirm or deny his intentions. He didn’t tantrum over unrequited meat-love. Instead, he turned and gave a little half-shrug as he tottered off on his merry way with his son and with his hamburger-laden cart towards the samples of beer cheese.
Dad, I knew this presumed flirt sent you panic-shopping and second-guessing everything. Had that extra dollop of Dove Men now made you irresistible? Was the fleece vest with a corporate bank logo asking for it? Wasn’t this Hot Pocket pallet cheaper last time? Did Mom leave because the universe expects you to be gay now?
Though the possibility is not zero, I really don’t see this stranger vying for Costco coitus. And, no, Dad, I don’t think it’s necessary to wash your eyes or your “post-ogled” butt. I know it sickens you to think this, but put yourself in his allegedly leering shoes: if your goal was chatting up or porking down with a tasty new beefcake, would your best strategy be to head to Costco, with your teenage son, wearing your stained Big Dogs t-shirt?
Dad, before you tip back a case of Hot Pockets and watch a replay of a hockey game in silence, really ask yourself if you truly believe that Big Dogs spends his Saturdays at Costco making cryptic passes at middle-aged men. What did you think, that his companion is actually a baby-faced voyeuristic videographer in a Fortnite shirt posing as his son and you are nothing more than the prey they have scouted and stalked, clearly infatuated with such a virile man in an outfit in which not one article was less than eight-years-old? Had their day’s hunt yielded so little that Fortnite Man-Boy had since grown restless, uncomfortable horny, and told his portly partner he had but five more minutes to yank those straight-leg Lands’ End jeans off that hot sampling of DILF and make subsequent, sweaty, greasy use of the handicap stall in the food court bathroom?
Do you actually believe now, that Big Dogs, the clock ticking, crafts this cart compliment dripping with entendre, thinking “He’ll know what I mean,” only to have you rebuke his meat lust? Come on, Dad. Be realistic. Consider, though, even after everything, when no one ended up naked and filled with regret, doesn’t it still feel nice to be desired, even if it was only for a hypothetical-made-for-the-Dark-Web romp? It might be the most afraid you’ve ever felt, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still savor the resulting self-esteem. Relish it, Dad, even if this stranger, almost assuredly, wasn’t looking for a meet-cute, but rather just noticed some cute meat.