Matthew McConaughey graces H.E.B. with his presence

The following events are true and are in no way embellished. Well… maybe a little.

The doors slide open creating a particularly nerve-racking screech, and the familiar aroma of over-processed and overpriced produce occupies my senses. It’s just another casual trip to H.E.B., or so I thought.

I was put on provolone duty — this is my time to shine. My friend and I chant ‘half-pound of provolone’ over and over on our way to the deli section. This, of course, gives me a great idea. Lately, I have been a huge fan of puns that have to do with Post Malone (the rapper), and provolone is just a Post Malone pun waiting to happen. As my friend is ordering a half-pound of provolone, I get to work cutting out a great picture of Post Malone’s face on Pic Collage. I’m in the middle of positioning Post Malone’s face over a stock photo I found of provolone when I hear the words that will change my life forever. “Oh my god, that’s Matthew McConaughey.” My eyes shoot up and sure enough there he is in all his glory. He has his back to me, but I would recognize those golden locks anywhere. When he finishes examining the display of cauliflower in front of him, he turns towards me. Time stops. I gasp at the sight of his piercing but still welcoming blue eyes. Oh God, he’s looking at me. Is this what it feels like to see true beauty in it’s finest form? I think I’ve forgotten how to breath… Quick do something! I open my mouth but the only thing I can think is ‘alright alright alright’ on repeat. He breaks what seems like deafening silence. “Hey.” My knees go weak at the sight of his effortless head nod and the sound of his gravelly southern drawl. I grew up on that voice. It’s home to my ears.  I have reached a whole new level. Is this Nirvana?

Matthew has now made the first move (I feel it is appropriate that I refer to him by his first name, now that we’ve become acquainted). It’s my turn. Here goes nothing… “HELLO” I eagerly exclaim. My face goes as red as the tomato in his hand. Stupid. How could I? This is quite possibly the only opportunity I will ever get to make an impression on Matthew and I choose “hello”?? Who even says “hello” anymore?! I may no longer call him Matthew, I don’t deserve to.

Oh no. He’s walking away. Oh no. Oh no. This is it. My world comes crashing down. I hear a faint panting coming from behind me which pulls me out of my daze. I turn to my friend, panic written all over her face. I quickly realize the sight of Mr. McConaughey was so overwhelming that it has sent her into a panic attack. I do the only logical thing I can think of. I begin to pound my chest slowly. “Ommhumm ommhumm ommhumm.” I mimic Mr. McConaughey chant from The Wolf Of Wall Street. This seems to bring her back to reality, and she joins me. We are now both beating our chests and humming in the middle of the produce aisle, right next to the potatoes.

But Mr. McConaughey is not gone, he’s still close by. I can sense it… Plus the swarm of whispering people is a dead give away. We begin our search, starting with the dried fruit aisle. We’re about five aisles in when we spot him ordering salmon. Great choice. Of course I’m vegetarian, and I don’t eat fish, but if Matthew McConaughey was feeding me salmon, I would not question it. We decide to hide behind the display of spices and watch him. Casual. Suddenly a college frat looking guy approaches him giving him a pat on the back. I feel a ting of jealousy. They exchange a few words, and Mr. “I’m cool enough to just approach Matthew McConaughey” starts walking our way. “That guy’s such a legend,” he says to us. I roll my eyes at how star struck this amateur is. Seriously dude act cool. He’s just another guy, no reason to get worked up.

I decide it’s now or never. I whip out my phone and start recording. Pretending to be on a phone call, I slowly walk past Matthew McConaughey. Me, being the stealthy person I am, did not realize my phone was set to flash. He recognizes that I am filming him. He asks to see the video. Of course I comply, handing over my phone. Our hands touch. Gasp. His skin is so smooth. Does he moisturize? He watches the recording twice, taking some moments to pause and examine it. I start to sweat. What could he be thinking? Is there something in my teeth? Why does that even matter? Mr. McConaughey clears his throat, handing my phone back to me. Here we go. Moment of truth.

“Your use of lightning is nothing but amateur, but your camera angles are well thought out.”

What? Where is this going? What’s his next move?

“I’d like to hire you to direct my next film,” he says with a wink.

Six weeks later.

I’m lying in the soft sand of Praia da Balaia, a private beach off the Atlantic coast of Algarve, sipping a mimosa, virgin of course, and cracking some jokes with Matthew. We’re celebrating finishing the third film in our urban extraterrestrial basketball acapella series. It’s a new concept Matthew and I have recently been exploring. He and I have become very close and we both genuinely appreciate each other’s creative process. It’s moments like these that I look back, back to the day when everything changed, the day I was star struck in H.E.B.