I recently witnessed a display of romantic intentions, hipster style.
I saw this, in all places, at Wal Mart, which is sort of like saying you held a Seder in the plains of Mecca. But saw it I did. I was standing in the self checkout lane at Wal Mart, because I have some dignity, and I saw a guy who was wearing a John-style cap. It goes without saying that he also had a beard. Sadly, I didn't see what he was scanning through the machine, but I can only assume it was a jar of pomade or a sousaphone or something.
The clerk that was waiting on us was wearing her blue vest, but was also sporting half-closed eyelids and some pouty Sandra Bernhard lips, looking for all the world like she would want to be anywhere but staring vacantly at these rubes buying sour cream and ginger ale at 10pm on a school night. Her hair was dolled up like she just walked out of the waiting room in Beetlejuice.
When she saw our customer--well, I'd like to say her face lit up, but I don't think her face changed expression at all.
"I like your hat," she said in a tone and inflection that would make people ask Wednesday Addams what got her all riled up.
"Thanks," he said, matching her enthusiasm. "I like your hair."
Sadly, as much as I wanted to stick around and see how this awkward flirting evolved, it was already a little too weird eavesdropping on this little love play and I left.
I'd like to think that he waited until her shift was done, and then they both hopped on his pennyfarthing and they went to a speakeasy to drink Tom Collins and play chuck-a-luck while someone plays Uptown Funk on a xylophone. Ah, fake romance.