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The Bi-Enby Alliance
DarceFace: Nickels! since I have custody of you on thursdays and saturdays, please keep august 21st available. I have PLANS.
I grimace at my phone. Darcy having all-caps PLANS is never a good sign for me.
Knickers: Should I be scared, Darce?
DarceFace: ALWAYS
DarceFace: [evil witch laughing].gif
Darcy is then…strangely silent on these plans for a few weeks. We go out for beers at our local brewery one Thursday, a roller rink in Dorchester the next Saturday, and make several trips to the lesbian bar in Back Bay.
“Nickster, you fit right in with the lesbians!”
They’re not wrong.
….The trips to the bar generally involve a moony Darcy staring into their “Dyke Saison” beer, trying to convince me to tell them what Tara’s up to. The evening inevitably ends with me tucking a teary Darcy into their bed and spending the night curled up on the couch to make sure they’re okay.
Finally, August 21st rolls around, and I text Darcy while I’m out doing errands.
The Bi-Enby Alliance
Knickers: So what are our big plans for tonight?
DarceFace: huh?
DarceFace: …OH!
DarceFace: meet at my place at 8
Not at all concerning. /s
Knickers: I’m at the store. Do you want me to bring anything?
DarceFace: …no
Knickers: …ok
I buy my groceries, stop at the liquor store for some beer, and head home.
The Bi-Enby Alliance
DarceFace: wear those dark jeans
Knickers: the ones you dubbed my ‘ass jeans’????
DarceFace: yes
Knickers: are we going out?
DarceFace: no we are not going out
Knickers: ???
Knickers: You just want to look at my ass?!DarceFace: gross. i’m an absolute lesbian
Knickers: So you see why I’m confused
DarceFace: do you still have that muscle tee you wore to pride?
Knickers: errr, no. It got ripped
DarceFace: 🤢🤢🤢🤢
DarceFace: tmi
DarceFace: okay, just wear a white t-shirt. make it tightKnickers: Darcy…what the FUCK
DarceFace: just trust me
Knickers: That’s a lot to ask
At 7:45, I’m on the bus and nearing Darcy’s apartment when my phone rings.
“Darcy?” They never call. Ever.
“Nicknack, my man! Can you do me a huge favor and grab some things at Market Basket?” They’re speaking so loud they may as well be on speakerphone.
“You didn’t need anything three hours ago.” I reply in a quieter tone.
“No, I didn’t!”
I sigh, and the guy reading a book across the aisle smirks at me. “What do you need, Darcy?”
“Okay, I need you to grab a shopping basket and get some Pringles!”
“If it’s just Pringles, why do I need a shopping basket?”
“Well, I need some other things, too. You should grab the Pringles first, then head to the produce section and call me back. Bye!”
“Pringles first,” I mutter to myself. The reading guy presses his lips together to suppress a laugh. I wonder what that’s about.
I look out the window and see that I’m almost at Market Basket. I push the button for the next bus stop and alight. After dodging cars in the middle of Somerville Ave, I march through the parking lot and into the familiar tan-and-beige linoleum entryway of Market Basket. I grab a red basket from the door and head towards the chip aisle.
As I’m walking towards the produce section with a can of Pringles, I notice a lot of people looking well-dressed and attractive near the fruit. I call Darcy back.
“I’m in the produce section. Why is everyone hot?”
“Yes!” they hiss. “Okay, Nickelodeon. I need you to get bananas. Definitely bananas. And um, grapes. Yeah, you like grapes.”
“This fruit is for me?” I ask. I am so, so confused.
“Oh, and I guess you could get an…apple? Peach? Tomato? It’s probably a peach.”
“One…probably peach?” I squint at the rows of fruit. “Is that it, Darcy? I’ll be at yours in a few.” I start collecting the assortment of fruits for them.
“No! Wait, yes. No! WAIT! I’ll come to meet you. Just let me get dressed. Be there in fifteen minutes. Just, um, walk around the produce section and talk to the hot people. I’ll be there soon, promise.” They hang up.
As I settle the bananas into my basket, a guy with long, straight blond hair approaches me. He looks at the items I’ve accumulated and then smirks at me.
“Hi,” he says with a confident air.
“Hi?” I am confused. This is Boston. We don’t talk to strangers.
“I like your shopping. A little bit of everything?” He puts one hand on a banana and bats his eyelashes at me.
I back away. I don’t like my banana being manhandled by a stranger. “Er, mostly fruit?”
“I was kinda hoping you were a cantaloupe guy, but I could be Pringles for the right person.”
“What?” I stumble backwards and land ass-first into the corn display.
He rolls his eyes. “You could just say you’re not interested, asshole.” And he storms off.
I shuffle around and catch my bearings, looking around for Darcy, like they’ll magically appear. As I’m searching for the meaning of life in a carefully arranged pyramid of limes, a really cute person comes up. They awkwardly brush their brown hair out of their disarmingly green eyes and look at my basket.
“You like grapes?” they ask shyly, a light flush tinting their pale features.
They seem nice. “I have a confession,” I start.
Their shoulders tense, and they look like they’re bracing for something. “Uh, what,” they ask in a strained voice.
“I’m very confused. My friend called me and told me to get Pringles, grapes, bananas, and a peach and then to wait for them. And now people keep peering into my basket and asking me about it.”
The other person visibly relaxes and laughs. “Oh!” They smile kindly. “You have no idea what’s going on?”
I shake my head and then shrug.
They giggle again. “Well, this is a Market Basket Meet-Cute. There’s this poster that tells you what to put in your basket to show what you’re looking for—grapes for nonbinary, peaches for women, bananas for men—and then…um you…meet people?” They laugh.
“OH!” I laugh, and blush. Darcy is so dead. “Um, yeah, I guess I am fruity.”
“And I’m Sam,” they joke.
“Nick,” I reply. We shake hands, and there’s no spark. Sam feels it too, I can tell. We chat for a few more minutes and find that we both teach elementary school locally. We exchange phone numbers, and I hope I’ve made a new friend. As I’m saying goodbye to Sam, I hear a small commotion.
“What the fuck, Isaac! I went grocery shopping NEAR OUR HOUSE after work.”
I look up and see the Reading Guy from the bus dropping a can of Pringles into the basket of a curly-haired man about my age. The Reading Guy is practically pushing the other one towards the produce section.
“WHY DID WE TAKE AN UBER FOR PRINGLES? AT MARKET BASKET! ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY!!!” He’s incredulous. “You don’t even like Pringles! You’ve literally called them an abomination.”
Reading Guy drops some bananas into the basket and twirls his friend around, pointing him in my direction. Reading Guy looks at me pointedly and then backs away. “Isaac! Where are you going?”
The guy is so cute hot beautiful my type. Curly dark hair, big stormy-blue eyes, dimples—fucking dimples—and tall and toned. I take my cue from my new bus friend and walk up to him.
“Hi,” I say.
He looks at me suspiciously. “Hi?”
“Welcome to the Market Basket Meet-Cute,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow and stares at me for a long beat before deflating. “Fucking Isaac,” he mutters.
“My friend sent me here, and I had no idea what was going on. So, I just wanted to fill you in. According to your basket, you like men. And Pringles. Actually, I haven’t figured out what Pringles means.” Okay, so I never said I was smooth or succinct.
He laughs. “This is so embarrassing.”
I shrug at him. “Well, I am also embarrassed. If you’d like to, maybe, be embarrassed together?” I ask hopefully.
He grins and I see those beautiful dimples again. “Maybe,” he replies, a light pink coloring his features as he looks down towards his long fingers.
I’m distracted by how gorgeous he is. So, of course, I start blathering. “Some guy told me he was hoping I was a cantaloupe, but that he could be Pringles for the right person. What do you think they mean?”
He looks up, and his eyes spark with mischief. Fuck. I’m in danger. “Is it a sex thing?”
I can feel my whole body turn red. Fuck fuck fuck. I am not prepared for this. “I mean, I’m into everything?” I admit. “Well, like, positions, and people. I’m bi. And vers. And I love giving oral.” I briefly register what I’m saying and mutter under my breath, “And fuck, I’m a disaster.” I gulp and then continue on at normal volume. “I don’t mean, like, all the kinks. Though some? And maybe curious about a few more? But, like, vanilla is fine too…I mean, I just want my partner to enjoy it, really. You know?”
A new color of red has been invented and now powers all the mortified heat of my body.
Beautiful Banana Man smirks and looks at me. “Oh really?”
I laugh and look down, moving my basket from one hand to the other. “I honestly have no idea what I just admitted to.” I shake my head a few times and look up into his blue-gray eyes. “Can I start over? Hi, my name’s Nick.”
He smiles at me, and I melt a bit. “I’m Charlie.” We shake hands and oh. Oh.
There’s a spark.
I run my hand nervously down the back of my neck, feeling grounded by the spikey texture of the hair there.
“So, fruity Pringles-coded bisexual disaster vers Nick, what do you do outside of hanging out at Market Basket on a Thursday night?” he asks with a new-found confidence that renders me speechless.
“Uh….”
He nods encouragingly.
“Nothing,” I reply before I grimace comically. “I mean, it’s summer, and I’m a teacher, so I have plenty of free time.”
Banana Charlie smiles at me, and my heart hammers in my chest. “I work in publishing at Houghton Mifflin. I edit textbooks.”
“Oh really!” I exclaim, and we get into a discussion of the textbook my students use for the third-grade science curriculum, and I fall a little bit in love with him and his nerdy excitement about learning outcomes. A nerdiness I share, really.
A teenager wielding a dry mop starts sweeping around us and brandishing us with menacing glares over his thick glasses. I look at the rest of the store, and it’s empty. No sign of Darcy, either.
“Uh, I think they’re closing,” I say eloquently.
Charlie’s eyes glance around and he giggles. “Oh yeah! Uh, I guess we have to buy this stuff?”
I rub my hand down my face and grab Charlie’s basket, walking towards the one remaining cashier. Eleanor, according to her nametag, does not look amused. “Another basket of Pringles and fruit. Sir, this is a grocery store, not a singles bar.”
I quickly tap my payment and start packing my fruit and Pringles into the shopping bag I keep in my messenger bag. Charlie pays for his order, and I bag up his items with mine. We walk out the door and our hands keep accidentally touching, until I delicately swipe at his fingers as a warning before fully grasping them. He squeezes my hand back, and we hold hands as we cross the parking lot.
“Hold on,” Charlie says. “Where’s Isaac?”
“Oh, Reading Guy?”
“What?” Charlie’s eyes flash with confusion.
“Uh, your friend who brought you here? He was on my bus earlier. He probably overheard my friend Darcy giving me instructions.”
Charlie’s face reddens again. “Isaac!”
“Yes, Charlie?” Reading Guy Isaac appears from behind one of the spindly trees that line the parking lot. Darcy teeters out behind him.
Charlie looks at me briefly before turning his back on me to face Isaac. He lowers his voice—but I can still hear him—and hisses, “You sent me here to meet Nick?”
Isaac presses his hand in front of his mouth, to suppress a smile or block me from reading his lips—or both. “He’s your type.”
“My type?!” Charlie’s hands are on his hips now, and my right hand twitches, bereft at the loss.
“Cute, single, clueless, and has good friends.”
I laugh and Charlie turns, looking stunned that I overheard.
“Errr, sorry,” I mutter then I turn to Darcy. They are obviously trying to contain all their excitement. Lips are pressed together, and eyebrows are raised, and hands are shaking anxiously.
“You found Charlie!” they let out.
“Did you set me up?” I ask.
“No, my dear Niko! I just wanted you to meet anyone. Then I was hiding in a bush and Isaac arrived. He was trying to set you up—”
I laugh. “Yeah, he pushed Charlie towards me!”
“You what?!” Charlie cries from where he and Isaac are discussing the situation in whisper shouts.
“Anyway,” Darcy continues. “Isaac and I figured out we were waiting for the two of you and we’ve planned your first date and —”
“No.”
“Nicky! No first date? But look at him!” Their arms wave wildly.
Charlie turns towards me with glassy eyes. I grab his hand back, and he looks down at them before he quirks a smile at me.
“Charlie and I are going to go to a bar for a drink right now, and you and Isaac are no longer involved.” I have never spoken more forcefully. Charlie’s grip tightens in mine, and I turn with an apologetic look, “Um, that’s if you’d like to get a drink with me right now?”
“Yes, please,” he responds. He even plants a sweet little kiss on my cheek, and I try not to erupt with how much I like him already.
I unceremoniously dump a reusable bag holding two cans of Pringles, a cluster of grapes, two bunches of bananas, and a single solitary peach into Darcy’s arms, and then I put my hand on the small of Charlie’s back and try to lead him away from the chaos of our friends.
“Wait!” Charlie stops suddenly and turns back. “What do the Pringles mean?”
“Oh! Pringles are for monogamy and cantaloupe is for polyamory!” Darcy yells back.
“Ohhhh!” Charlie and I say in unison. Then we both laugh, and I pull him against my side and wrap my arm around him as we walk towards the bar.
