33 Things They Don't Tell You About Being Basic

2: Instagram Isn't Real Life

At the end of the craft fair day, I had made enough money for the effort to have been worth it, but I sure didn't make enough sales and new customers to quit telling people which wine would pair best with their food.

It seemed like getting my red sailboat dream was going to have to wait for a much, much longer while. There was something about it—its independence, its aesthetic, or perhaps something else along the lines—that I wanted for myself, but for the time being, that freedom was so far across the horizon that I couldn't even catch a glimpse of it. I didn't mind that being left up to my imagination, though.

With several tables of people who had more money than I could only dream of having, I turned on a smile. Of course, there were plenty of rich people who thought I was so beneath them that they didn't bother to leave a decent tip, but the ones that did made the effort a little bit worth it.

One table with a stunningly gorgeous younger couple with what I assumed to be family money was definitely the best chance I had at making some good money that night.

"We'll take a bottle of the most expensive stuff you've got," the woman said.

I raised my eyebrows. It was definitely expensive, and even though I had never had it, I couldn't imagine it tasted much better than a four-dollar bottle from Aldi's or what was made here in Marblehead. "That's an Italian cabernet that pairs well with—"

She shook her head and interrupted me. "It's very impressive that you know all this stuff, but it's really just about the status for me at this point in my life."

"Katie," her man admonished.

"What? I just didn't want her to waste her time when I know what I want, and that information would be much more useful with someone else." She turned back to me. "Get those tips, girl."

I blinked a couple of times. I couldn't decide if she was my new hero or if she was completely unbearable. But either way, when I looked into her greyish eyes, all I could see was green.

"Well, I'll have that out for you in a moment, then," I said as I put on a fresh new smile.

As much as I wanted to have enough money to support myself with crochet and to have the basic necessities of life like pumpkin spice everything, I never ever wanted to have that much money. It seemed like that amount of money was almost always wasted on the rich.

I headed back to get that bottle of ridiculous Italian wine for them, but I was interrupted while I was on my mission by another customer.

"Excuse me," a man said as he held his hand out in my path.

I smiled despite the fact that was a little rude. "Is someone taking care of you?"

He was by himself dressed in a flannel and jeans, and in a winery such as The Lakeside Daisy, he seemed a little out of place. The outside of the building reminded me of a cross between a colonial home and a limestone castle, and given that we were on the coast of Lake Erie in Ohio, neither option made much sense. The inside, however, was decorated with nautical shades of blue, and the horizontal wood paneling on the wall reminded me of a ye olde ship.

Of course, there wasn't anything wrong with eating alone, but it was a little weird. And it was much more strange that the curl to his brown hair was untamed, the jeans were ripped, and it looked like he had just come in from playing outside to eat the dinner his mother cooked, SpongeBob mac and cheese.

"You seem confused about how they let me in here," he said.

Was I making a face? I had to have been making a face. Shit. "Oh, no. I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now. What was it that you wanted?"