Photo Credits: REBECCA CAMBELL / AGGIE
A love letter to the (organic) apple of my eye
This is it. You and the man of your dreams are hanging out together. The lights are low, and tensions are running high. He says your name, and your breath catches in your throat. He leans in close and whispers in your ear:
“Let’s go to Trader Joe’s.”
Your search can stop here. You’ve found The One.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you reply, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks as you hop into his Kia and vamoose for some dried mango slices.
Truly, inviting a fellow human being to peruse the produce aisles of Trader Joe’s is how we express our affection in this day and age. If you’re a millennial, and your friend offers to take you to TJ’s for some Mandarin orange chicken, know that you are one quinoa sample away from a marriage proposal.
One’s love for Trader Joe’s is always deep. To share that love for Trader Joe’s is to share the most vulnerable version of one’s self, the version that “ugly-eats” an entire bag of TJ’s peanut butter pretzels on a tattered living room couch on a Friday night.
Side note: if your significant other has witnessed you wolf down these pretzels like a killer whale eating a seal in a BBC nature documentary and they’re still by your side, put a ring on it immediately.
If you’re still unsure about the romanticism of good ol’ TJ’s, allow me to take you on a journey:
You’re standing in front of Trader Joe’s, reusable shopping bags in your hand dancing in the caresses of the late April breeze. You check your phone one more time and think, Where is she? You hear your name in the distance, and you turn to see her half-jogging through the parking lot. She, too, has her reusable bags. She hugs you, and you grab crimson shopping carts together.
Walking in, you start in the flower aisle and snag a bouquet of daisies and sunflowers. You hand it to her, and she beams. She’s happy because she thinks you remembered what her favorite flower is, but you really chose this bouquet for the ladybug wrapping paper (you think ladybugs are hella rad).
Now you’re in the pasta aisle. Your hands touch as you reach for the last package of cheese tortellini, and you both blush. You tell her she can have it because that’s how much you love her (but you’re dying inside because you were craving those li’l cheesy bois).
Then you find yourselves in the frozen foods aisle. She pauses, right hand hovering delicately above the chicken fried rice. She instead reaches for the Japanese-style fried rice. Now, this is a woman of culture.
When you’ve had enough romantic tension, you both head to the privacy of the alcohol corner and just go at it. In the midst of making out, a bottle of cheap Pinot Grigio falls off the shelf and into your hand. Perfect for date night dinner!
That night, you two bond over a delicious meal from the sexiest grocery store in town (suck it, Safeway). You two have never felt more in love with each other, or with tortellini.
Written by: Madeline Kumagai — email@example.com
(This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)