I Met a Man in a Beer Fridge and This is What Happened

This is a true story and it is fascinating. 

I went to the grocery store. I was in the mood for some Beck's dealcholized beer (is there any other kind?). I am always hesitant to walk into that walk in (I just said “walk” twice) beer fridge. I wonder “Who else is going to be in there an if a tree falls in the woods – does anybody hear – that tree being me – if someone decides to grab me in that fridge because I am taking the last case of Beck's dealcholized beer?

 So I go in and it’s cold because it’s a fridge. I make my way around the maze of crates and boxes and then I smell cologne and I don’t wear cologne although I do smell like Moroccan oil and it smells really good. Then this large man (anyone is large compared to me) comes around the bend and smiles and says in French (which I don’t understand so he probably did not say this…English translation…)

“What are you looking for?”

“It’s a beer fridge – I’m looking for beer.”

He smiles, pats me on the back – which is strange because we are face to face.

I find my Beck’s dealcholized beer, smile on the inside and then I turn around and the cologne guy is right up in my face. I am suddenly afraid and then to make things worse (worse than being alone in a giant cold fridge with a stranger who is close talking me)...


He puts his arm around me and walks me out of the fridge sort of like we are going down the aisle except my family is not in the front row and there is no little kid throwing flowers at people with flower allergies and there is no song playing that is “our song” that we would be dancing to while all of our friends and family watch on and wonder “When are they going to stop dancing to this stupid song and serve us some food?”

And his family doesn’t understand a word my family is saying because they are French and we are English and pasta is being served on the menu (sideline: for those  of my readers around the world who do not understand this reference to pasta or for those who do not understand this entire post nor do I – a restaurant in Montreal was fined or almost fined or could have been fined for having the word pasta on the menu way too many times – which is Italian but the PQ government thinks it's English which means it's not French – even though they are an Italian restaurant that serves pasta – never mind) and I am pretty sure I did not choose to marry this guy in the beer fridge although given my present mid-life situation it may be a consideration – we exit the beer fridge – he kisses me on the cheek and we go our separate ways.

I am completely confused as I head to the cash to check out – not because of what just happened but because I am confused most of the time.

I pay, I leave, I return home, I get cozy on the couch and watch some TV and I can still smell the scent of his cologne on my cheek.

I wonder “Will I ever return to that grocery store beer fridge?” and if so “Will he be there waiting for me?”

And as I reflect on that deep thought, I realize that this whole beer fridge experience has been way too overwhelming so I pour myself a Beck's and feel that buzz that I can’t feel because there is no alcohol but that I pretend to feel so I can float off into oblivion and decide on a wedding song to dance to with that man from the fridge while my mother sits in the front row shaking her head and saying:

“I’m not paying for this wedding."

Cheers and please don't drink and drive unless you are drinking Beck's 0%