The Eye F***er: Corporate Edition

As I have said before, I work on a large trading floor. Depsite the large percentage of males, the attractive ones are hard to come by. There is one particularly sexy male who seems to find me as hot as I find him.

Or it least it seems that way.

Whenever I see him on my way to the bathroom or to refill my eco-friendly water bottle, he catches my eye in an intense stare. Not just a normal "I'm checking you out" stare. No, this is totally way more of a "I'm undressing you with my eyes and doing naughty things to you" stare. Ok, maybe I strut in my best attempt to look like Heidi Klum at an Angels show. But this only started after the eye fucking began. Every time I walked by him, he stared ever so intensely. I did not initiate said eye fucking. I mean, I definitely noticed this man, who is well-dressed, dark haired, and chiseled. But really? At first, I figured he thought perhaps I was new and cute or perhaps looked familiar. But no, they've continued for months and have yet to stop!

At first I held out on telling my coworker, Avery. But eventually I needed validation that I was not insane in noticing these stares. On our way to the caf one day, I spotted him across the way and, without turning my head, told her he was to my left wearing the blue shirt. Sure enough, she looked and said "OMG! He's staring at you!". Validation felt good.

So this has happened a couple times now, me getting girlishly nervous when he is in close proximity (I chattered excessively when he was behind me and Avery in line for the cash register). And him staring at me, but not really reacting. I mean just yesterday, I was en route to the ladies room and he was walking perpendicular to me and TURNED HIS HEAD TO LOOK. I mean maybe he just has a staring problem? One time I managed a half smile, which he returned. And another time, we were alone in the kitchen, but I stood in the corner, avoiding eye contact. Why? I'm not sure. If he'd wanted to initiate a conversation, he could have made his way over. Really though, I prefer not knowing his name or his position (or relationship status). He's just much better mysterious. It'd really ruin the fun of a mutual eye fucking if we had to say that obligatory and awkward hello upon passing each other in the hallway. I don't know if he wants to do me or just think about it, but it sure makes it more fun to go to work!

The Proposal

The girls and I went out not long ago to our favorite summer spot. Janelle brought along some customers of her parents, who happened to be in town from Florida painting bridges. They're Greek-American and apparently bridge painting is a very Greek-American thing to do.

Anyway.

We gathered and the boys immediately bought rounds of drinks. The two outgoing ones were a bit crazy and not particularly attractive. The quiet one, however, was CUTE. I especially liked his purple v-neck t-shirt and gold chain. He called himself Snow but ironically had a nice Floridian glow. Depsite my designation as driver, it was early enough where I felt it was perfectly acceptable to throw back the shots of Patron these bridgepainters were handing me.


We made the rounds, circling this enormous indoor/outdoor bar. Although it was packed, reserved young Snow (apparently he's still in college) seemed particularly intriguing. So I decided to focus my attention on him. And he seemed more than okay with hanging out with me. Snow told me that I was the prettiest girl in the bar, complimenting me constantly. I didn't hate it. Of course, I questioned it and though I took the compliments, had trouble believing most anything he was saying.

I mean really, prettiest girl in the bar? HA.

Anyway, we talked about work and family and what not. He had a slight Southern twang and kept calling me darlin'. Even though I knew this would be short lived, I figured I'd take the ego boost when and where I could get it. As time went on, we had a couple more drinks and he started talking a lot more. He told me about his mom and how he was adopted, his desire to have and support his own family someday, and how girls are usually not interested in him. I was shocked by this but in some way felt like I was talking to a male verison of myself. I reassured him that this was not the case and I found him quite attractive. This was obviously true. He continued complimenting me. And calling me darlin' in that cute little twang. Eventually he asked me how old I was... I answered truthfully and he refused. Hm. Ok. His license was still vertical, meaning he was definitely younger than 22.

Oh well.

So then he started asking me to go back to his hotel room. And told me we'd just "get to know each other". Okay, I've heard that one before. I said no and no again, until eventually the girls sought me out for my car keys. They told me if I wanted, to go back with him. I wasn't sure nor was I drunk enough to be easily swayed. He asked again and I refused. I told him he could take my number and take me to dinner. He did, except he said he'd left his cell phone in Florida (WHAT!). I wrote it on the back of a bar receipt (classy) and we kissed goodbye.

Thinking the kiss might make me reconsider, I went for it.

Not a good idea.

Snow then said "I love you. I'ma marry you one day. Two years!"

I was flabbergasted. But obviously flattered.

We smooched again, and finally said our goodbyes. I walked back to the car, intrigued, excited, and slightly freaked out. Was he really hammered? Would he really call?

The next day, he did. From his hotel phone. He left a voicemail, but no number to call back. And his last name had about 15 letters, so calling the hotel for his room was out of the question.

Guess we won't be getting married in two years. PHEW!

Burn.

For the past few months, I have been communicating on and off with Kendall's ex-boyfriend's roommate's roommate. A friend of a friend of a friend if you will? A while back (before Kendall's ex became her ex) a bunch of us went out and had a good time. He lives in the town where I work, and chat on facebook and what not. I'm not sure what he thinks of me, but I thought he was reasonably attractive and seemed super nice. While I had no intentions of dating him, I at least thought he could be a new friend. So while out with coworkers at a weekly summer music thing in the town where I work, we decided we'd meet up. He told me where he was and I didn't rush to that bar. Instead I wandered with my coworker until I felt I was ready to go flirt? Make small talk? Drink? With this acquaitance.

Well, that didn't happen. I walked into the bar and we greeted each other...He introduced me to his (cute) buddy. Then he didn't say much, okay, anything so I beelined for the bar. After paying for my drink, I looked his way. He wasn't facing my area, so coworker and I did a couple laps around the bar. When we went back outside, she smoked a butt and I kept my eyes peeled. At this point, the guy was clearly not looking for me, nor did he notice me creeping ten feet away. I finished my drink and grabbed my coworker.

On our way out, I practically slammed into him on his way from the bar. He had three beers in hand, but did not so much as turn in my direction. Disgusted, defeated, and not quite drunk enough, Avery and I made our way home. I passed out, trying not to think about what had happened.

I woke up to a text the next morning that said, "I didn't even get to talk to you...". Sent at 1:14 am... a solid 3 hours after I'd given up and left the bar. Did he want to talk to me? Because it sure didn't seem that way. And I was not about to wait around and find out. Perhaps I'll run into him at some point, but I definitely will not be sending the first message on facebook chat. It just sucks that I thought maybe we could at least be friends, and after hello he brushed me off. Kendall said that he sometimes gets quiet and weird when he's drunk, and perhaps that was the case. But it's still a bit of a blow to the ego.

The Wild One?

I tend to be considered a wild child. Frequently I wonder why. I mean, really. Who doesn’t like a cocktail now and again? Perhaps I am a little “wilder” than most. I’m young and I want to have a good time! But lately, I’m starting to wonder if this is deterring me personally and professionally.

Let’s start with my personal life. On three separate occasions, I have been pegged the crazy one amongst my group of friends. Sometimes, I bring this upon myself by cheers-ing with a new acquaintance and challenging him to a chugging contest. But on these more recent occasions, I was acting just as normal, if not calmer, than my friends. I was put up to a kegstand just..because I looked like I could do it? Granted, I do always seem to be the one who steps up to take that shot or chug that beer. But even worse, I am sometimes called out when no such instances occur. Just a couple weeks ago, I was standing against the bar, barely touching my drink, and I got pegged. “You!” this guy said, “You’re the crazy one!” Huh?

What did I do or say to prompt this? Is it my unruly hair that gives it away? Do I have a twinkle in my eye (or perhaps a twitch from too much caffeine)? Are my mannerisms more provocative than those around me?

I’m not sure. But I’d really like to know.

At work, I’ve already been pegged as a party girl. While I often joke around with my fellow admins, I don’t ask our team of analysts where they’re headed for a drink. Nor do I dress any “sexier” than any one on the desk. I try to steer clear of anything too short, tight, or cleavage baring. SO what is it? Perhaps my sense of humor? Outgoing nature? I am my no means straight laced, but I do try to maintain a certain level of professionalism. It’s just uncomfortable sometimes, feeling that even at work I might be judged for what I’m doing after 5:30 or on the weekend.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no intentions of changing who I am. I’d just like to know why even complete strangers think I’m so ‘crazy””when I don’t think I’m very crazy at all. Fun? Absolutely. More fun than you? Very possible. I just hope that when I am pegged, it is in good humor. I don’t want this apparently obvious quality to hinder my career or stop a guy from dating me. I wish I could do a survey or a test to figure out what prompts this snap judgement. That way I could try to maybe be calmer in the presence of strangers or keep my sarcasm to a minimum. I mean, let’s be real. I’m fine with being a party girl. But even when I’m not partying?

Brief TSF Psychoanalysis: I often use humor as a defense or a way of finding common ground with people I don’t know well. Is this why??

I WOULDA Gave You My Number...

My three bff's and I went out to a new town a while ago. Why not change it up?

I'd had a rough week and wasn't feeling like my usual self. None of my clothes seemed to look right and as soon as I went out side, my perfectly flat-ironed hair developed an awkward poofy wave.

Hello New Men!

Yikes.

I drank two martinis at dinner to calm my nerves and had developed a healthy buzz before we left the restuarant. While I was saying silly things, I still felt unattractive, stuffed, and like the DUFF in mywonderful group of friends (who ever so kindly listened to me whine for probably felt like hours).

I forced a smile onto my face. Janelle and I were on the prowl, and this bar seemed full of eligible suitors. I spotted one right away at the bar. I'd overheard him talking about a certain company and interjected that my friend Elena worked there as well. The guy's friend said something stupid and I played along. But then I looked to my left and saw Janelle, Belinda and Seraphina laughing as they looked in my direction.

A break came in the conversation and at this point I felt like such crap about myself, I wanted to crawl into a hole.

Pour me another vodka tonic, please.

I attempted to put my best flip flop forward and we continued to circle the bar. Our fellow patrons were attractive enough, but I was in no mood to apparently embarass myself again. When Belinda's boyfriend and friends arrived, I stood with them while Seraphina and Janelle went off to see what else this bar had to offer.

Belinda's boyfriend handed me a shot of Jameson. Maybe liquor would have its usual effect on me and lighten my mood.

We circled a bit, people watched a lot, and I felt alright. Not great, just alright. I somehow started talking to a reasonably attractive male in his mid-twenties. He'd noticed me and the girls circling the bar like vultures on prey.

Shit. Caught in the act.

I denied his accusation and we discussed work. Turns out he was a Carnegie Mellon MBA student whose summer internship was at the company across the street from where I work!

This could work out nicely.

I chatted with him for a few, this time far from earshot of my girls (as much as I love them of course). His Guido/tiny Hispanic/questionably straight friend remained quiet, so me and Carnegie discussed work a bit more. He had a similar story to mine, which included lots of jobs and a bout of unemployment. He was smart and seemed nice enough. A few minutes later he excused himself to go to the boys's room.

I popped back over to my posse, but kept my eye out for Carnegie. He returned to his spot just a few steps away. I looked over and made eye contact but did not walk over, since I was unsure if his need to take a leak was real or not. He came toward me with tiny friend in tow. We continued chatting, talking about various topics, the normal stuff. We had even more in common, than I thought before. Conversation flowed nicely.

Tiny friend spoke up only to tell me my hair looked like a puff and was messed up. We had even more in common and shared a love for all things food-related.

Thank you Captain Obvious.

I'm sure I "accidently" shot him a death stare. I got slightly offended by this little Papi and thought it was rude he decided to tell me this. I thanked him in my most sarcastic tone for the reminder.

After this comment, the conversation got awkward. Carnegie and Tiny said they were going to depart, and they said nice to meet you and out the door they went. Oh, okay.

Don't worry, I won't get started with my nonsensical ramblings about having a spectacular connection with this stranger. But he could have pretended he had an interest. I mean, I get that he may have a girlfriend at home. Or, why would he bother taking my number knowing he's not going to use it? I don't know. But I'd rather pretend! That ego blow especially after my apparently terrible hair night just pushed me further into pathetic mode. Burn.

Weirder still is that Janelle also chatted with a guy at the bar for an extended period of time. And he also did not ask for her number. Did things operate differently in this town? I don't know if it was us or them, but I'm confused (and, per usual, rejected).