Come Back to the Five and Dime

Story Sent in by Peter:

Dorothy and I hung out in a main town square for our first date. There was an art gallery nearby, and before dinner, we stopped in to look at the art.

While I glanced at each one for a few moments, with none really sticking out, she stopped and stared at a photo of a guy who looked like a facsimile of James Dean from Rebel Without a Cause. It didn't strike me as anything special, but Dorothy was apparently entranced by the photo and beguiled by its $250 price tag.

She popped it off the wall and brought it right up to the counter. "I'll take it!" she said to the gallery clerk.

The clerk was more than happy to scan Dorothy's card. I didn't say anything, but she must have read the confusion on my face. Dorothy said, "He's beautiful," meaning the photo.

"He certainly is. Very James Dean," the gallery clerk said.

"He's gorgeous," Dorothy went on, "Who is he?"

"A model, I suppose," the clerk said.

"How can I find out for sure? Can I contact the artist?"

The clerk said, "The artist's info is on the back of the frame. He should have a card on there."

Sure enough, the artist had taped his business card on the back. As the clerk wrapped up the photo, Dorothy called the number, seemingly forgetting that I was there.

She said, apparently into voicemail, "Hi, This is Dorothy. I just bought your gorgeous photo of the James Dean guy. I have to know who he is. I feel like I already know him, but I want to meet him and spend the rest of my life with him."

All this time, Dorothy didn't so much as glance at me once. The gallery clerk paid her insanity no mind and handed her the wrapped photo in a shopping bag. He thanked her.

Without waiting for me, Dorothy left the gallery, still talking into the phone, extolling the virtues of the photo, over and over, saying, "I have to know who this guy is. He's gorgeous."

She finally hung up and I caught up with her. I asked, "I'd ask if you wanted to do dinner, but you seem to already have a date." I pointed to the photo in the bag.

She glanced at it and said, "Hm? Oh, yeah. No, I think I'm going to dedicate my life to finding this guy. Sorry!" She kissed my cheek and left me standing there. I have no clue as to whether or not she ever tracked that James-Dean-wannabe down.