It’s funny how on a normal Sunday afternoon when I’m out doing my grocery shopping for the week the stores are all calm and status quo. You go traversing up and down aisles and you see the same old types of faces, the frazzled mom with her young kiddies in tow, the elderly couple picking up their weekly rations of sundries and staples after church and then lunch. Then there are the single career gals like me gearing up for their hectic weeks with easy to make menu items. But today, on this afternoon, enter a whole new life form, alien to the regular Sunday shopping ritual.... The Super bowl guy. Hee hee hee. There were hordes of them too, seemingly helpless jock types with their track pants thrown on haphazardly, a sports scarf wrapped around their thick necks and baseball caps worn backwards. They all looked stressed out, fraught even. It seemed like they were everywhere, scampering around yielding bags of chips and Jax, makings for nachos, liters of soda, frozen TGI Friday’s potato skins. They were so cute, like little fishies out of water flopping around on the beach. I wanted to help them out. One guy was lost, I kept meeting him on aisle 8 and then again on aisle 7, and finally on aisle 6. He was going backwards and he looked so puzzled that I asked him if he needed help finding something, I think he may have thought I worked there. He was looking for salad dressing so I pointed him towards the spaghetti aisle. And then to the ketchup and then to the pickles. He was so grateful that he asked if I liked football and invited me to come to his party. I declined because I was hopped up on muscle relaxers and dressed in baggy sweats with my hair poking out of my winter hat. He gave me his number in case I changed my mind. But clearly this wasn’t the married man who would send his dutiful wife out with a party list to tend to the shopping. It wasn’t the live-in boyfriend guy who was attending a party at someone else’s house and dragging his girl friend along. This was the guy who was totally on his own and clueless. This was a breed of man who was single and cute, an anomaly, a totally unheard of phenomenon in my neck of the woods. It was as if they all came out space and descended onto my one little grocery store for this one day out of the year. *Note to the single ladies out there, it is true afterall how they say one of the best places to meet a guy is in the grocery store. What they don't tell you is you have to be there on that one day out of 365.

Who won the game anyway?