Rite Aid Pharmacists: A Prescription for Unrequited Love

Did you miss me yesterday?

I would hope so – due to the challenges and roadblocks that sometimes can get in the way of life, I was unable to record any thoughts yesterday.

Here is a question for everyone: Is it bad to have a crush on one’s Rite Aid pharmacist?

Early last week, I discovered I’d run out of my life saving and affirming medication. Anti-depressants, you ask? Wondering if it is for Ritalin? Perhaps a few anti-anxiety pills – goodness knows I need those? But no, my pills, prescribed by my dermatologist, are for “clean and clear” skin.

Not as exciting, huh? Regardless, I am dependent on those babies! And when I run out, it ain’t pretty.

After a busy day of Broadway advertising, I hurried over to my neighborhood Rite Aid, which I must say is far superior to any Duane Reade, a chain I’ll never quite support or understand. I made my way through the throngs of New Yorkers stalking up on dented, on-sale canned food products, $2.99 packs of 12-rolls of toilet paper and the buy-one get-one free bag of beef jerky. Oh, yes, Rite Aid is one classy joint.

As I finally reached the pharmacy in the back, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the usual corpulent and tremendously frightening elderly pharmacist, noted for her ability to make 200-pound wrestlers cry with just her words, was not there. Instead, I was greeted by the brightest, cutest smile I have seen since the creation of teeth whitening mouthwash.

Mmmhmmmm…my pharmacist, whom I have seen twice now, is the cutest, friendliest, blonde, blue-eyed boy! And so begins the pangs of another of my unrequited love affairs.

What interests me the most is the emergence of a pattern. My pharmacist is only one in a string of ethically unattainable members of the health care profession to have caught my eye. You must, of course, remember my therapist in college?

Sigh…

I will not bore you with the details of that story, since you have, I am sure, heard it multiple times. Suffice it to say, the close of my college career was spent pining over the love of the man who was suppose to help me overcome feelings of anxiety resulting from unrequited love.

Completely twisted, I know. If only I were Woody Allen, I could translate the aforementioned scenario into a dazzlingly witty screenplay and then win an Oscar for it.

I close today with questions I would like to put to you:

Is it really unethical to date you pharmacist?

What is the source of my obsession with members of the healthcare field?

And finally will my pharmacist confess his deep love for me tomorrow, when I pop by with a fake cold and ask him to Vicks Vapor rub me all over?

Till tomorrow, om, chanti, chanti, chanti, namaste.