I’m a box of cheap wine on a grocery store shelf and i just saw the gheyest thing.

I'm wedged next to a boxed chardonnay that thinks it’s classier than the rest of us because it says “oak notes” on the label. B!tch please! You’re still trash wine.

Anyway, I’m minding my own business when two Marines cross paths in the aisle eyeballing each other like a Maple Nut Cake or a Jalapeño cheese spread.

They stop.

Stare and talk about some Brokeback Mountain stuff they used to do. You can cut the sexual tension with a knife. It's intense as they talk about "being in". I assume they each wanna be in each other. Kinda ghey, if you ask me, but I'm not here to judge.

“Semper Fi”

The other guy nods like he lusts after his sweaty balls slapping his ass while wearing bootbands.

“Later, dude.”

But that’s not the real story.

The real story is the wife. She says something about "shit". Probably about getting shit faced.

She’s standing next to him, but she’s not looking at him. Oh no. She’s staring straight at me. And not casually either. No, this is the kind of stare you see from a First Sergeant on his third divorce eyeballing the thick E-3 Latina that just checked in fresh from the school house. I know that look. The Natty Lights across from me have told me about it way too many times.

The Semper Fi Marine grabs a 6 pack of O'Douls and starts walking, looking confused.

But the wife lingers. Still staring at me like I’m the solution to every bad decision she's made.

I’m three bottles wearing sweatpants in a box. But I csn see that she wants to take me home to be inside of her. There’s a very real chance someone ends the night on the couch doom scrolling TikToks.

And judging by that stare…

Oh yeah. I’m going home with her.