regret

regret: to feel sorrow or remorse for

With confidence, I have little to no regrets in my life.  I honestly understand; live and let live, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, no use crying over spilled milk. Frankly, there's a reason why I have the following tattooed on my body...

"the weight is a gift"

However, every now and again there is that one fleeting moment that I wish I would have done differently.

12;10pm. Ten minutes late for my lunch break.  The bright orange gas pump light on my dashboard blinked with indignation; I had neglected it for far too long.  So, we, my car and I, made a trip to the Shell station on Federal Way. Begrudgingly I got out, forked over my debit card, and shoved the pump into the tank. The day was bright, washing everything in yellow.  I put on sunglasses and tapped my foot, waiting impatiently.  I looked to the right and in pulled a small cloud of sunshiney dust. The cloud stopped, the dust settled, and an old Ford pickup materialized. Out came a man, a very handsome man, unconventionally handsome. He smiled at me, shook out a card from his wallet, and shuffled into the store. He was wearing slippers and eating a sucker. Not sure that even matters, but it was half the reason I smiled back.  For the first time, in a long time, my heart stopped.  I didn't die, obviously, for it was only a moment.  A moment during which I thought to myself, "post-it-note + my phone number + gorgeous old ford truck + cute guy = ...hmm?" My mind was ticking, percolating even.  Then the gas pump clicked and demanded that I answer that stupid question about whether or not I wanted a car wash when there isn't even a car wash at that gas station. I sunk back to reality, chicken-ed out, and got into my car.  As I was driving away, I pounded my head on the steering wheel and said aloud, "stupid stupid stupid."  I should have given him my number.

Sounds silly, huh?  Yeah, well I don't get "butterflies in my stomach" often, so when I do I trust my gut.  Remorse, yes a little. Regret, certainly.

And to you, Mr. Gas Station Man, wherever you are, whoever you're with, they are lucky to have your company.  Especially if you are generous enough to give them rides in your pick-up.

I want a truck. And a man (well that's complicated, but when push comes to shove, sure why not). Two for one would be most ideal.

p.s. did I tell you about the old rusty black Chevy pick-up that I see on my walk to work every morning? I pass swiftly with envy. If only I owned that truck.  It's parked across the street from that sing shop on Highland. Looks a little like this...

but with more character, sits low to the ground and everything!