Small Town Infidelity

I'm cheating on men. A few of them. And some women too. I'm not cheating on them sexually, I'm cheating on them commercially. Those in a small town don't understand. See, when you live in a small town (by Bulgarian standards this is large, but I assure you it's NOT) you buy things from people - the SAME people - everyday. The fruits and veggies at the end of my block are manned from dawn to dusk by the same old couple. The dooner stand (dooner being a Turkish sandwich, like a gyro...only not) is always the same guy. Even the grocery store has the same counter people and cashiers. Everyone is the same no matter when I go.

Being a sad creature of habit and also sticking out like a sore thumb means I attract attention and people know me and recognize me. Part of it is that I'm an American. Part is that I speak Bulgarian like crap. Part is that I use the words for "please," "thank you," and "excuse me." Whatever it is, people know me. Some refer to me by name or as "the American" or even "my American." Others notice me in line and just automatically make what I normally order. It's a relationship, of sorts, with each of the people. An acknowledgement and a shared respect. A fondness even.

And then...I ruin it. I get bored, I start looking elsewhere, I think "hey, there are other dooners in the sea" and I try something new. Sometimes it's just as great and sometimes it's even better. And then...I'm totally torn. Do I break it off with the old guy? How do I tell him? I can't just walk by the veggie stand with VEGGIES in my hand. God forbid. Or stroll past my old favorite dooner stand with another man's dooner in my mouth. What would people say?

Forget sex, drugs and rock n' roll. I'm just looking for a good tomato.