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The Instacart Delivery Guy's Direct Eye Contact Means He Wants to Marry Me, Right?

By Mary Gulino


The simplest answer is often the best answer, right? Well after much deductive reasoning, I’ve come to the straightforward conclusion that the Instacart guy who delivers my groceries every week is sending me a silent cry for help, and wants to be with me forever.

When I first noticed the glint of his wedding ring four weeks ago, I was like, “Okay, we get it, you’re in a loving relationship.” But then, he handed over those two totes full of food, forearm veins popping, and an electric charge passed between us. Surely this wouldn’t have happened if he was happy in his marriage. It dawned on me: this man wants to be married to me, he just doesn’t know how to say it.

Every time he comes to my door, our eye contact lingers. Some might say his prolonged eye contact is because he’s waiting for me to tip in cash, but I don’t think that’s it. I have high emotional intelligence, so I can tell he wants—nay, needs—something from me. He needs me to take him by the hand and say, “Let’s get outta town. Just you and me.” Now I don’t want to get ahead of myself, so I wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t 100% certain.

When I look into Instacart Guy’s eyes, I feel a well of emotion that’s so rare these days. Sure, he is the only human I’ve seen in the past 40+ days, but that doesn’t factor into my very real emotions. It doesn’t make the love we share any less pure. When we interact, we don’t even need to exchange words, that’s how romantic it is. We say it all with our eyes. And then sometimes he grunts, “G’night” as he turns back towards his car. It’s so hot.

A lot of people report getting cabin fever during quarantine, but I’m not one of those people. Has being inside all day made me forget what other people’s voices sound like? Sure. Has it made me long for the embrace of another human, regardless of whether I know them or not?

Hell yes, bro. Am I convinced without a shadow of a doubt that Instacart Guy is my one and only? Honestly, I am.

Twenty years in the future, when Instacart Guy and I are happily married with a fleet of mini Instacart Guys scurrying underfoot, I’ll look back on our beautiful courtship phase, so grateful that he was bold enough to make the first move. And by making the first move, I mean, coming to my door for his job in the gig economy.


Image: The Rolla Daily News

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