THAT Couple.. (Yeah. THAT One.)

16 Jan

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I see you. Yes. I do. I see you, perfect couple cruising the Grove (The celebrity frequented upscale mall, also home of E! interviews) mid-day on a Sunday. I see you with your orbitz stroller, ironed clothes, handing your toddler a whole Foods snack as you both chit chat back n’ forth as though you actually care about what the other is saying. Yes. I see you.

I see you, in your Banana Republic casual best, showing your edge by sporting your white, lace less converse, without a scuff or spec of dirt on them. And your husband, with his news cap and light army green cargo shorts, showing that he’s a man of golf and x-box. I see you both as you hover over your toddler at the bookstore, flanking his sides at the kiddies table, eyes intent on a book, sharing one of your many favorite common interests, your prodigal son, as he points his finger at a picture of a cat and says “mow, mow”, you both nod joyously in approval.  Who cares, if that’s not what a fucking cat says. He’s adorable! Am I right?

I see you. I see you as you dab a tissue with your tongue to try and get a spot of something off of your white linen blouse (really? White? With a toddler?) As your male part of the perfect coupling masterfully places the bright orange Alien looking stroller into the trunk of your Lexus SUV. I see you. I see the other stroller in your trunk too, the bugaboo, the creepy Rosemary’s baby one. Good choice going with the pastel Orbitz on family day. Props.

I see you. And I’m glad. You were becoming an Urban Myth. I was growing concerned that you were to truly exist only in my imagination or rather my misperception of perfection.  I know now, that you only exist to make me feel like a total asshole.  To feel frumpy in my Old Navy skinny jeans (which in all honesty, is questionable that I should even be wearing them in the first place) and my 2 year old black converse (con laces). To make me rethink my earlier choice to not accessorize with a loose neck scarf for just a splash of color.  To make me feel disconnected and disenchanted with my own children at the bookstore’s kiddie’s table as they read and I completely ignore them and facebook. I know your game. I see you. I see your dinner parties and event list. I see how you have the sign above your bed that reads, “Always kiss me Goodnight.”

I see you. Barf.

But, here’s the deal, weird, perfect couple. I would be lying if there weren’t a part of me that wanted to be you. You both are locked so perfectly into a stereotype and all that goes with it, like being supremely happy and in love, bills paid, never on your last roll of TP, sans stress.

I mean, do you even exist? Am I thirsty and seeing a mirage? Am I high? Did someone slip me a Mickey at Umame burger?

Did I walk into a Nora Ephron movie? Is Jen Gardner my bestie? My once a year splurge to the Grove with my kids is now just a part of your weekly routine. Is me staring at you ruining your day?

Cause, I’m lost in you and I can’t. Not. Look. Stop. Staring.

Then, Wham. Some kid on a leash slams into me. As I steady myself, grab my kid’s hands and watch the two year old with the teddy bear backpack, it’s “tail” (leash) dragging behind him as he books it down towards the escalator. The look on his face is of pure freedom, the wind in his hair, his laugh, which is joyful and slightly terrified as his mom barrels after him, her screaming his name, rocks me; my kids cover their ears and start to laugh hysterically. I think to myself, with a single tear in my eye,  “run little man. Run.”

I feel reality again. I look back to you perfect couple. Did we just share a moment? But you are gone.  Where did you go?

And everything is back to exactly as it should be.

One Response to “THAT Couple.. (Yeah. THAT One.)”

  1. suzy j January 16, 2013 at 11:38 pm #

    i. adore. you.

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