Date #4: Mr. Trader Joe's Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds

4 is – far and away, without contest – my very favorite number. I love 4. I revel in 4. When asked to pick a number between 1 and 100, I will always pick 4. If asked again, I will again pick 4. 4, to me, is perfection. And with my devoted history to 4, you could imagine the high hopes I had for this fourth Cereal Date of mine. I even donned my “Lucky Number 4” shirt for the occassion – I mean, if ever a situation merited it. Yep…with 4 on my side, I had no doubt that this was gonna be some good cereal dating.

So dressed to the nines (or fours), I made my way through the Farmers Market yesterday and immediately spotted one Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds, holding in his hands a truly mammoth bowl of breakfast. (It begged the question: what in God's name is being compensated for?) Appearing as though he just stepped out of the Almost Famous wardrobe trailer, he somehow managed, at once, to look both exactly and nothing at all like the picture he had sent. I don’t know how that is. Actually, he looked a bit like John Lennon, donning bug-eye glasses with yellow lenses.

And so we met, and we sat, and we examined our bowls. His impressively contained not only an assortment of flakes and twigs, but also 2 fruits I have never before even considered for cereal. (Though I think it goes without saying, I’m referring to the mango and kiwi here.) And then I requested “permission to photograph” and Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds reacted in a way that I would classify distinctly as the polar opposite of the Anti-Cereal Dater, though equally odd and disturbing. He loved it. He jumped out of his chair. He helped me line up the shot. He marveled. He asked me to send him a copy. I think he would’ve encouraged more (Now solo! Now together! Just the spoons!), if we hadn’t already poured our milk.

“Cool! Are you posting it on a blog or something?”

Shit.

“Uhh…no?”

Fuck, I hate lying. (Swearing…on the other hand…I love swearing.)

“Oh, well you should.”

Huh. How ‘bout that?

I spent 2 hours with Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds (I would’ve been good with 1 ½, but 2 was fine), and I recall three things:

Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds is a musician – bass player - replete with all the sensitivity and emotional baggage that might imply. He practices 4-5 hours a night but isn’t currently in a band and, as such, has an equally small bank account and social circle. Thus, he trolls Craigslist for gigs, and girls to eat mistimed meals with. He has toured around the world and played on the Grammy-nominated album of some obscure Japanese artist. (On a timely aside, due to the way internet downloads have raped the music industry, he earned $168 for that. Fight that good fight, writers!) I don’t know how old Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds is, but if he falls within my designated age range of 21-34, he’s definitely pushing the upper end.

Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds can’t smell. Never could. He had an epiphanal moment at the age of fifteen when his mother asked him to smell a pot roast and he realized that meat doesn’t smell like air. Fifteen. Fifteen. How is that possible? When he was studying the five senses in grade school did it not occur to him to say, “Hey, what’s that one with the nose? And the wavy lines over the pile of garbage?” And, as my friend pointed out, by fifteen you would surely have encountered a scratch-and-sniff sticker. Scratch? Check. But what of the sniff? Now, all of this would have utterly blown my mind if it weren't for the fact that my own roommate, in fact, suffers from this very impairment. Oh, the kismet! Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds has only ever met one other person who couldn’t smell. My roommate has met none. They are both very excited to make contact. Perhaps this was meant to be - think of the copious amount of pot-smoking their children could get away with.

And finally, Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds was inordinately interested in my previous cereal dates. We spent a significant amount of time deconstructing and analyzing their personalities and cereal choices. I found it a bit disconcerting, quite frankly, and amplified by the email I received just hours after our meeting requesting the picture of our bowls and, also, those of the other guys’ bowls, too. “Call it a comparison of manhood if you like or just a creepy fascination,” he offered, but he’d like to see them. I shall refer to it as the latter and will not be including them in our next correspondence.

Needless to say, my romantic future with Mr. Trader Joe’s Blend with Mango, Kiwi, Pears, and Almonds looks bleak. My affection for the number 4, however, remains unscathed. Some love is just deep enough to weather the storm.