I promised myself I would never do it. Our attraction and desire for each other was unbelievably strong, but I knew deep down it was only going to end badly, most likely with tears and irreparable emotional scarring. Clearly, there were tons of warning signs and everyone I spoke with warned me to stay far far away. But, after a year of endless flirtation and suggestive glances and unanswered late-night booty calls, I couldn’t help myself. By George, it was time.
. . . to visit the Brooklyn Target.
Well, to be honest, the main reason I finally gave in was because I recently discovered the Sonia Kashuk make-up line for Target through a NY Magazine advertisement and my co-worker Andrea and I were more than a little interested. Okay. So maaaybe there was a slightly inappropriate number of girlish squeals and giggles and tantrums and “oooooo nooooo”s echoing from our cubicles. Maaybe. Well, anyway, Andrea was in desperate need of a make-up brush bag and Sonia just so happens to make an adorable one for a totally affordable price. And so before I knew it, I was hopping on the downtown Q after work on Wednesday to break my year-long “Targets That Are Definitely NOT Super” celibacy.
And you know what?
There wasn’t any emotional scarring.
It didn’t even end in tears.
In fact, I’m totally fine.
So maybe the shelves weren’t very color-coded or clean or overflowing with that oh-so-amazing Targety goodness that makes me wanna do the Risky Business No Pants Dance down the aisles the way my gargantuan SUPER Target in Indiana does, but the Brooklyn Target did happen to have one of Sonia’s make-up brush bags left! Yessss. I then discovered rather quickly that this was the kind of Target that wouldn’t mind taking me out for a casual dinner if I came without a clear shopping list and might even offer to pay if I arrived solo right after work on a rainy Wednesday. But if I tried to look for something specific in a quantity larger than none-1 on a sunny Saturday afternoon with a slowly creeping headache, this Target would probably just graze my boob “accidentally,” ask for my underwear, and then leave me with the bill itching for [no] more.
Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
Well, with me he didn’t. So yay!
All in all, I was pleasantly surprised.
Thanks for dinner, Brooklyn Target.
ummm. I’ll call you!