Shenanigans
A canceled date leads to an unexpected romance
Today, a man approached my register and placed a novelty mug and a candle on the counter.
He was older, with a crooked, closed-mouth smile that reminded me of my late uncle — the one who survived three strokes before the fourth finally took him.
I smiled back as I scanned his items. The mug read: “Don’t Mess with Mamasaurus,” accompanied by a cartoon dinosaur. On the other side, it said: “You'll get jurass kicked.” The candle lid read “Happy Mother’s Day.”
“Your mother should enjoy these,” I said.
“Oh, they’re not for my mother. They’re for my girlfriend,” he replied.
“I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“No, no, that’s fine,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Does your girlfriend have boys? Girls?” I asked.
He chuckled, paused, then said, “I don’t know.”
I was confused, but a customer had lined up behind him, and I didn’t press for clarification.
About an hour later, during my lunch break, I saw him again. I’d just grabbed my coffee from the food court coffee shop and turned around to see him sitting at a small table for two.
He waved.
“Hi,” I said, still unsure how I felt about a man who didn’t know the gender of his girlfriend’s kids.
“Hello to you,” he said, rising from his seat as he addressed me. It was clear he was a gentleman.
On the table were two enormous chocolate chip muffins.
“You must really like muffins,” I joked.
“I had no idea how big these things were,” he said, laughing.
“I’m Andre,” he said, offering his hand.
“Carrie,” I replied, shaking it.
“Nice to meet you, Carrie. Please, would you like to sit?”
He motioned to the empty chair, and with my unease fading, I sat down with my coffee.
“Could I offer you a muffin?” he asked with a smile. “Seriously, I’m never gonna eat two of these monsters,” he added.
“Um, sure,” I said. “Thank you.”
I took the muffin and began to peel the paper wrapper.
“So Carrie, how long have you worked at…” he paused. “Shenanigans is it?”
“Yes,” I said and laughed a little bit. “We were a Spencer’s store up until they pulled out of the mall about a year ago,” I answered. “I’ve worked there ‘bout two and a half years.”
I pointed to my name tag.
“Assistant Manager,” I said.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s alright, I guess. I get to meet some characters in that store,” I said with a smirk.
Andre grinned at me.
“Like, guys that don’t know if their girlfriend has sons or daughters,” I said.
I pinched a morsel from the top of my muffin.
“Care to explain that, Mister?” I asked, smiling, as I popped the bite of muffin into my mouth.
“Hmmm, well,” he said. “Considering we just met, you’re gonna think this is strange.”
“Try me,” I said, my mouth full of muffin.
“Okay,” Andre answered, and I couldn’t help but notice his face had flushed red.
“Last year,” he said, “I had a first date lined up for Valentine's Day, but she canceled on me.”
“Oh no,” I said.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Said she had a migraine.”
I nodded.
“But see, the thing is, I bought her a gift,” he continued. “Fairly extravagant one… it was a designer handbag,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t have spent the money, but I did.”
I examined his face as he spoke. I felt he had a sadness about him.
“Do you make it a habit of buying handbags for first dates?” I asked, surprised. He didn't seem like a wealthy man.
“We’d known each other awhile,” he said. “Just hadn't been on an official date yet.”
I nodded.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I had second thoughts later. It didn't seem like she was as interested in me as I was in her.”
“I started to think maybe I should hold onto it for a while.”
“Did you ever get around to having the date?” I asked.
“Not really,” he said.
“Well that's too bad,” I said.
“No, it's fine.” Andre said. “It occurred to me I should hold onto the bag until I met a woman that made me feel something… more.”
“I think that's a smart decision,” I told him.
“Yeah, but then I had another idea,” Andre said.
“I thought, ‘Why wait?’ I’m gonna meet somebody eventually, so why not just keep behaving as if I already had a girlfriend?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, and my face must have shown it.
“Like, why not just keep buying gifts as if I were dating someone?” he said. “So that’s what I did.”
I blinked, listening.
“I didn’t know what her birthday would be, so I picked a random day to buy her a birthday gift,” he said. “And for the 4th of July, I bought two tickets from a local pilot who does fireworks viewing tours from his helicopter.”
“You bought what?” I asked, stunned.
“I made sure he would honor them next year,” Andre said.
“You’re unbelievable,” I said.
“I bought several Christmas gifts,” he continued. “A nice plush blanket. A big soft robe.”
“Andre…” I said, but he kept going.
“And tomorrow is Mother’s Day. I figured most women my age will be a mom, so that’s how I ran into you today, in Shenanigans.”
Most of my relationships had been with guys who had no idea how to give a thoughtful gift, and here was this man, thinking about a woman he hadn’t even met yet.
“So,” he said, “the idea is, one day, when I meet the woman who’s gonna be my forever girl, I’m gonna give her all the gifts at once.”
My mouth dropped open. I was speechless at Andre’s tale.
Our meeting that day in the food court was the beginning of something neither of us expected. I took a half day and clocked out early, and we spent the afternoon together. It was the beginning of a torrid affair between Andre and I.
The first six months were a blur of sex and dancing and nights on the town. Late night trips for tacos were as common as our early morning breakfasts at the truck stop restaurant. We shopped, took roadtrips in his Jeep, and sang along to music from the 80s.
I was genuinely in love, and I made sure he knew it.
I told him, often.
I touched him all the time.
I was impressed with his work, and told him so.
He was a good man. The kind of man I’d been seeking for years, only to find assholes instead.
One night, as we lay in bed, Andre got up and disappeared into his closet. He emerged with an armload of boxes and bags.
My breath caught. I knew what was happening.
“Carrie,” he said, smiling, “I’ve been keeping this stuff, waiting for this day.”
“Andre...” Tears welled in my eyes.
He handed me a birthday gift. A Christmas gift. A plush blanket. A robe. A handbag. Even the “Mamasaurus” mug.
It wasn’t just the gifts. It’s what he was saying with them.
“The idea is, one day, when I meet the woman who’s gonna be my forever girl, I’m gonna give her all the gifts at once,” he had said.
“My forever girl.”
Then, from his pajama pocket, he pulled a small black box. He dropped to one knee.
“Carrie,” he said, “will you—”
“Andre,” I interrupted, “I don’t have anything for you!”
“You’ve already given me yourself — fully, without holding back. That’s the best gift I could ask for.”
I covered my face, tears falling freely.
“I will,” I whispered.
And that’s how our love story began.