“Do you know how to pick a good pineapple?”

I sat up on his bed.

“Yeah, you have to smell it”

“What, no, I thought you pick it when it’s golden.”

“Right, you can do that too.”

It’s a Sunday. The perfect Sunday with the perfect man. Each new man is better than the last, right? He has better qualities than my ex. He’s ambitious, he works so hard, he’s so smart. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

I’d been waiting for this day for the longest. When we first met at work, first laid eyes on each other, it felt like time had stopped. Every clock stopped ticking, the universe laid out this moment for us. I finally met him, my soulmate.

“I can’t help what comes out of my mouth sometimes, I don’t wanna be an asshole but sometimes I don’t realize what I say. Let me make it up to you. Sunday.” Okay.

It might’ve been May or June. It was definitely warm enough for us to be strolling through the grocery store in tank tops and shorts, picking out pineapples. We drove to the store with the windows down, which I thought would’ve helped with the warmer temperature, but I was still sweating. It didn’t help that I was now walking around the grocery store with a tall man whom everyone kept staring at with raised eyebrows. I watched both men and women alike do a double-take at what I assumed was his appearance. I was in awe at the attention, obviously accustomed to receiving eager (and creepy) glances from men as a woman, but at this point I still had yet to see a man receive something comparable.

Once he wanted to get in line to pay, I commented that maybe we should walk around a little bit more.

“This isn’t a date.”

Right. He still didn’t want this to be a thing. Even after getting food for us to make later. Even after buying me a milkshake. Even after meeting his mom several times.

We got back to his house, and spent the afternoon making food together. I spoke to his mom while I was in the kitchen, pet his dogs as they slowly strolled by the stove, and occasionally stepped out into the backyard to see him. He was sweaty and flustered, with the sun beating down on him as he leaned over the grill. I knew he had freckles on his face, but this was the first time I noticed that they dotted his arms too. I didn’t think anything of freckles, not really, until I met him. In the moments where I would go back and forth in between the kitchen and the backyard, I sometimes noticed him staring at me. When I would look back at him, all he did was smile.

A few days later, my last day at this particular job, the place where we had met, we had a long conversation. We had those a lot, definitely a few times a week. Always longer than two hours, always meaningful (to me at least).

“I think if I were to pick out my ideal sexual partner, it would be you. You give me everything that I want.”

“But what about a partner that wasn’t just for sex?”




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Katherine Leonce

Katherine Leonce

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