Dear Charming Stranger at Target,
It was just another ordinary Tuesday, filled with the usual chaos of parenting — I was out of paper towels, patience, and desperately in need of a little sparkle in my day. Target is my sanctuary, and it was clear that you felt the same way. I caught a glimpse of you, moving purposefully through the aisles, hand-in-hand with an adorable little girl who I assumed was your daughter. You were on a quest, and I admired your sense of urgency; kids have a way of reminding us that time is precious, especially in a store like Target.
Your confident stride and practiced movements conveyed that you were a seasoned shopper, and honestly, it made my heart skip a beat. As you paused in the home goods section, I thought I might inch closer. After all, who doesn’t need another stemless wine glass or a chic marble cutting board? But it was your colorful ink tattooed down your arm that really caught my attention — it was enough to make me quicken my pace. I’m not one to chase after anyone, but sometimes curiosity can ignite a little adrenaline.
You exuded an understated sexiness, not the kind that screams for attention, but rather a humble allure that drew me in. Watching you pick up a white platter made my heart flutter; I have a serious weakness for elegant dishware. I was tempted to share my obsession with you, but I hesitated, fearing it might come off as too forward. I imagined saying something ridiculous like, “That platter would look fantastic with my baked goods spread across it,” and cringed at the thought.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that you might be worth pursuing. But first, I needed to confirm that there was no ring on your left hand. The last thing I wanted was to get swept up in a fantasy only to realize I was wearing my Target goggles, seeing the world through a lens of rainbows and gumdrops.
So, I decided to admire you from a distance while pretending to scrutinize the three bags of Baked Lay’s I had tossed into my cart. That sweet little girl was patiently waiting for you, which suggested you were a regular at this store. As you gathered a stack of those pristine white square plates, I noticed your ring finger was blissfully bare.
With newfound determination, I approached, fully prepared to strike up a conversation. But instead, I found myself moving past you in a daze. Our eyes briefly met across the utensils, and as we both nervously sipped from our Starbucks straws, I felt butterflies in my stomach — a mix of excitement and downright fear. I wanted to pull you into an embrace, but the moment slipped away.
Later, as I checked out, I daydreamed about us sharing a meal at a cozy Mexican restaurant, sipping margaritas and then embarking on a shopping spree together at Target on a whimsical Friday night. But when I turned to leave, there you were, right in the Dollar Spot, and you were looking at me! Just as I tried to muster the courage to say something, I clumsily rammed my cart into the automatic doors. Oh, how I wished I could have turned back and pretended to forget something.
As I drove away, munching on my Baked Lay’s, I couldn’t help but regret not saying anything while you were juggling those dishes. I berated myself for not knowing how to flirt and contemplated whether I should have turned back with a clever excuse.
Perhaps our paths will cross again, or maybe they won’t. But regardless of what happens, I’ll always cherish that moment in Target. And just so you know, if I see you again and you’re lovingly caressing a throw pillow, consider yourself warned — it’s game on.
XOXO,
The woman who regrets letting you slip away.
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