Things happen when you're not even paying attention.

I was at a popular restaurant today. I ordered a 12-inch vegetarian on wheat with swiss cheese. I like this sandwich because it's a salad in sandwich form. Bread, lettuce, tomato, spinich leaves, olives, pickles, cucumbers, salt and pepper, oil and vinegar. Too perfect. But this isn't the point I'm trying to make.

I flirted with the Subway Sandwich Artist. He flirted back probably because of my salad sandwich order. He looked kinda...from Colorado...if you know what I mean (no offense Ashley). I closed our encounter with the line, "I'll see you next time."

The question I pose is this: How soon is next time?

I was thinking the day after tomorrow.

Or I could take the Swingers mentality. The part where he gets the phone number and he asks all his friends how long he should wait to call her.

"Industry standard used to be three days. Then after a while it seemed like everyone was waiting three days. But that's not three days including today. Tomorrow starts the three days."

"So you mean four days?"

"If that's how you want to look at it."

"So how long are you going to wait to call your babies?"

"Seven days."

Song lines that best describe my inner thoughts...

...because I'm not a poet.

"Now that I've seen you, I don't think you're worth a second glance. So much for all the promises you made, they served you well and now you're gone and they're wasted on me. So much for your endearing sense of charm, it served you well and now you're gone and it's wasted on me." ~Dashboard Confessional

"Don't wait, don't wait. The road is now a sudden sea and suddenly, you're deep enough to lay your armor down." ~Dashboard Confessional

"I'm cuddling close to blankets and sheets but you're not alone. You're not discreet. You make sure I know who's taking you home. Well as for now I'm gonna hear the saddest songs and sit alone and wonder how you're making out. But as for me, I wish that I were anywhere with anyone making out. Your hair, it's everywhere. Screaming infidelities. Taking it somewhere." ~Dashboard Confessional

"Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself, and covered with a perfect shell, such a charming beautiful exterior. You can't fake it hard enough to please everyone or anyone at all or anyone at all." ~Dashboard Confessional

"This medicine is just what you deserve. Swallow, choke and die." ~Dashboard Confessional

"And with a sad heart I say 'Bye' to you and wave, kicking shadows on the streets for every mistake that I've made. Like a baby boy I never was a man until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hands. And I fell down yelling 'Make it go away! Just make her smile come back and shine like it used to be!' Then she whispered 'How could you do this to me?'" ~Blue October

"You just kinda wasted my precious time." ~Bob Dylan

The beginnings of a story.

"Here's the deal," said the naive brunette. "I want you to give me that car and I'll give you $3,000 for everything."

"That is a 17 year old Mazda. I couldn't give th...deal," he said against his better judgment.

She slapped the cash into his hands. With confidence in her new find Stephanie Reynolds rolled out of the dealership thinking she was the wiser of the two. Stephanie was in her mid-20's. Her frame was petite no taller than five feet. Delicate cheekbones. Beautiful crystal blue eyes. A slight wave to her hair. It was the middle of summer. Her dress was very casual. Cut off shorts and a nature colored short sleeved shirt. Her pedicured feet were placed ever so gently into a pair of flip-flops.

"She paid cash," Mark said to his sales partner.

Mark worked (in his own words) an extremely crappy job. But sales was his strong point. He went to school for it. He entered business school with the goal of becoming chief salesperson of Cannicorp Pharmaceuticals. Why was he working at the used car dealership? That was a question Mark asked himself every day.

Today he was not standing tall in his six foot frame. Broad shoulders were slumped. His chestnut eyes half-closed. His semi-long blonde hair looked unkempt compared to his metro wardrobe. Black tailored slacks, shiny black leather shoes, sunfire yellow button down shirt and lavender tie.

Mark walked into his office to finish paperwork for the car. Counting the bills he murmured, "She paid cash. She didn't even try to make a deal. Did she even research?" Sign and print here it stated on the final page of paperwork. He scribbled his doctor style signature onto the final paper then printed Mark Singer where indicated.

He looked at his watch; a style they give away on The Price is Right. 4:45 on a Friday night. He slid the paperwork into his outbox, tucked his rolling chair under his desk and walked out of his office. Tightly locking his door.

"I'll see you Monday," he shouted to his sales partner, Steven.

"Hot date?" Steven said.

"If you call a rented movie, a bowl of microwave popcorn and an empty apartment a hot date. Say 'Hi' to Rebecca for me." With a twinge of jealousy he walked out of the dealership.