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!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
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.
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??
Monday, July 12, 2010
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).
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).
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Handyman
I hate to admit it, but I live at home. We decided to get some painting done, so my Mom got some guy's name from a friend in the area. He's 37 and single, apparently. Blah blah blah.
I came home Friday afternoon to an unfamilar vehicle in the driveway. I guess things were getting started. He was in the basement, but I remained upstairs since clearly I had no need to speak to this man. While I was eating dinner, I got a text from an unknown number that said "Hey. It's Bill. Are you here?"
The Handyman was texting me. From my basement. And I never gave him my number - instead he got it off my e-mail signature when I confirmed receipt of the invoice he sent to me to forward onto my mom. Confused, I didn't respond. He came up a few minutes later and asked if I got his text. This should have been a red flag.
Mom and I had picked out a vanity for one of the bathrooms, but it was too large to fit in either of our sedans. I still hadn't picked out a color for my bedroom, so the Handyman asked me to go with him to Home Depot so I could finally choose some paint. I thought this was semi-normal and off we went in his gigantic pickup truck.
We made small talk in the car, but I did not go out of my way to fill the awkward silences. He talked a lot about himself and I pretended to be interested in what he was saying. We scooped up the vanity, but I still was unable to make a decision on paint. He mocked me and I told him I was very particular. Without paint, we took the 15 minute drive back. It was nearing 8 pm, and he starting whining that he was hungry.
And then he said, "Can I interest you in some dinner and drinks". Stunned, I mumbled something about having already eaten and moved on. We got back and he started talking to my mom and again, mocked lack of ability to choose a paint color. Ha. Ha.
I started moving the remainder of my stuff out of my room to prep for painting. And once I sat down to relax, I got another text from the Handyman. Asking if I'd be willing to take him up on his dinner offer at a later time. Unsure of what to do because this man would be in my house, I said it might be fun. He then tried to start a conversation and I didn't answer.
Yesterday I was out all day, and he took it upon got yet another text that his offer still stands regarding dinner. I ignored it, and when he returned to finish up ignored him as much as possible. He interrupted me while I was on the phone to ask if I liked my room, and called me by a nickname usually only used by my family. And he asked my mom if the princess was happy with her paint color. He also "surprised" me by removing my light fixture, throwing it out, and installing a new one. Without consulting my mother or me. This dude was a serious creep. He finally wrapped up, and my mom told him he was too old for me. But I can't help being really spooked out by the whole incident. Ick.
I came home Friday afternoon to an unfamilar vehicle in the driveway. I guess things were getting started. He was in the basement, but I remained upstairs since clearly I had no need to speak to this man. While I was eating dinner, I got a text from an unknown number that said "Hey. It's Bill. Are you here?"
The Handyman was texting me. From my basement. And I never gave him my number - instead he got it off my e-mail signature when I confirmed receipt of the invoice he sent to me to forward onto my mom. Confused, I didn't respond. He came up a few minutes later and asked if I got his text. This should have been a red flag.
Mom and I had picked out a vanity for one of the bathrooms, but it was too large to fit in either of our sedans. I still hadn't picked out a color for my bedroom, so the Handyman asked me to go with him to Home Depot so I could finally choose some paint. I thought this was semi-normal and off we went in his gigantic pickup truck.
We made small talk in the car, but I did not go out of my way to fill the awkward silences. He talked a lot about himself and I pretended to be interested in what he was saying. We scooped up the vanity, but I still was unable to make a decision on paint. He mocked me and I told him I was very particular. Without paint, we took the 15 minute drive back. It was nearing 8 pm, and he starting whining that he was hungry.
And then he said, "Can I interest you in some dinner and drinks". Stunned, I mumbled something about having already eaten and moved on. We got back and he started talking to my mom and again, mocked lack of ability to choose a paint color. Ha. Ha.
I started moving the remainder of my stuff out of my room to prep for painting. And once I sat down to relax, I got another text from the Handyman. Asking if I'd be willing to take him up on his dinner offer at a later time. Unsure of what to do because this man would be in my house, I said it might be fun. He then tried to start a conversation and I didn't answer.
Yesterday I was out all day, and he took it upon got yet another text that his offer still stands regarding dinner. I ignored it, and when he returned to finish up ignored him as much as possible. He interrupted me while I was on the phone to ask if I liked my room, and called me by a nickname usually only used by my family. And he asked my mom if the princess was happy with her paint color. He also "surprised" me by removing my light fixture, throwing it out, and installing a new one. Without consulting my mother or me. This dude was a serious creep. He finally wrapped up, and my mom told him he was too old for me. But I can't help being really spooked out by the whole incident. Ick.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Rejection Tango
Cornell and I (yep, same one) have kept in touch on and off over the last few months. We randomly would text each other, and even met up once. I even drunkenly texted him while out with the Accountant (more on him later). He usually ends up asking me to come over, and I politely decline and ask he text me before 9 pm. Even though I'm clearly a piece of ass not worth seeing in daylight, a few weeks later I try, try again!
Crazy? Yeah, probably. And totally not a "me" thing to do. Usually, I figure if he's interested he'll make some sort of effort to hang out. And if not, screw it. I move on.
But for some reason, I can't get him out of my head.
I attribute this to the immediate feeling of comfort I got with him. We had an easy dynamic, a rhythm. Wacky as it may sound, I just felt like we were on the same wavelength. When Seraphina met him, she noticed that we had "the same" sense of humor. Whether or not this is the case, I'm sure he doesn't think I'm anyone special. When I told him I couldn't be his booty call, he said he wanted to be friends. I can work with that...and obviously show him how fabulous I am!
That lasted maybe a week or so at best. Despite the drunken lines in feeds me (which he claims are not lines) and his quick responsiveness when I text, he's made it pretty clear I'm not worth his time. He often claims he wants to hang out and was 'going to text me but forgot' or will continue a conversation after I've stopped responding.
I've tried deleting his number so I do not have the option of texting him, but I cannot bring myself to do so.
During our most recent texting fest, he was obviously trying to convince me to go to his apartment. And made reference to that fateful night where we apparently (must have?) hooked up. He said he "had a great time the night you slept over".
Ughh. I was hoping we could just put that behind us? It was months ago after all.
I must have just been unforgettable.
So, rather than agree that I had a great time as well, I decided to do what I do best. Be honest. I told him that night was fuzzy and I think he has the wrong idea about me. Of course he shot back with some nonsense that he knows I'm a "sweet" girl and he doesn't have the wrong idea, but really wished I'd go over. He also said I was dodging him and he'd wanted to hang out for a while. I tried telling him that I'm not dodging him at 3 am.
Essentially, we got nowhere. I was happy to (drunkenly) tell him that evening at his apartment was fuzzy. Even if it didn't sink in.
So the next morning, he apologized for asking me to go over so many times the night before.
I told him no worries and that was that.
That was maybe two weeks ago. I resisted texting him...
UNTIL I HEARD HE'S QUITTING HIS JOB AT THE VERY COMPANY WHERE WE MET! AND MOVING TO THE CITY!
Guess I'll really never see him again.
Against Korey's advice, upon hearing this news, I texted him. Of course. I told him I'd heard he quit and bid him good luck. He said some BS and we went back and forth. I eventually passed out, and woke up to a text that said we should get a drink before he leaves town. I responded (dumbass Single Friend) that I'd be down even though we always say we're gonna meet up blah, blah. He said we'd figure it out. I told him I wouldn't hold my breath. He said I was harsh. I said I was not harsh, just saying. And if he ever wanted to get that drink to let me know.
And that was that. Strangely, I feel relieved. If we couldn't meet up here, there's no way it will happen after he moves. Maybe now I can actually delete his number, knowing the odds are much slimmer that we'll ever encounter each other on purpose or by accident. It was obvious all along that he didn't want to be friends, and just saw me as easy. Maybe he liked me for a day or six. But he got what he wanted. And moved on.
Why can't I?
Crazy? Yeah, probably. And totally not a "me" thing to do. Usually, I figure if he's interested he'll make some sort of effort to hang out. And if not, screw it. I move on.
But for some reason, I can't get him out of my head.
I attribute this to the immediate feeling of comfort I got with him. We had an easy dynamic, a rhythm. Wacky as it may sound, I just felt like we were on the same wavelength. When Seraphina met him, she noticed that we had "the same" sense of humor. Whether or not this is the case, I'm sure he doesn't think I'm anyone special. When I told him I couldn't be his booty call, he said he wanted to be friends. I can work with that...and obviously show him how fabulous I am!
That lasted maybe a week or so at best. Despite the drunken lines in feeds me (which he claims are not lines) and his quick responsiveness when I text, he's made it pretty clear I'm not worth his time. He often claims he wants to hang out and was 'going to text me but forgot' or will continue a conversation after I've stopped responding.
I've tried deleting his number so I do not have the option of texting him, but I cannot bring myself to do so.
During our most recent texting fest, he was obviously trying to convince me to go to his apartment. And made reference to that fateful night where we apparently (must have?) hooked up. He said he "had a great time the night you slept over".
Ughh. I was hoping we could just put that behind us? It was months ago after all.
I must have just been unforgettable.
So, rather than agree that I had a great time as well, I decided to do what I do best. Be honest. I told him that night was fuzzy and I think he has the wrong idea about me. Of course he shot back with some nonsense that he knows I'm a "sweet" girl and he doesn't have the wrong idea, but really wished I'd go over. He also said I was dodging him and he'd wanted to hang out for a while. I tried telling him that I'm not dodging him at 3 am.
Essentially, we got nowhere. I was happy to (drunkenly) tell him that evening at his apartment was fuzzy. Even if it didn't sink in.
So the next morning, he apologized for asking me to go over so many times the night before.
I told him no worries and that was that.
That was maybe two weeks ago. I resisted texting him...
UNTIL I HEARD HE'S QUITTING HIS JOB AT THE VERY COMPANY WHERE WE MET! AND MOVING TO THE CITY!
Guess I'll really never see him again.
Against Korey's advice, upon hearing this news, I texted him. Of course. I told him I'd heard he quit and bid him good luck. He said some BS and we went back and forth. I eventually passed out, and woke up to a text that said we should get a drink before he leaves town. I responded (dumbass Single Friend) that I'd be down even though we always say we're gonna meet up blah, blah. He said we'd figure it out. I told him I wouldn't hold my breath. He said I was harsh. I said I was not harsh, just saying. And if he ever wanted to get that drink to let me know.
And that was that. Strangely, I feel relieved. If we couldn't meet up here, there's no way it will happen after he moves. Maybe now I can actually delete his number, knowing the odds are much slimmer that we'll ever encounter each other on purpose or by accident. It was obvious all along that he didn't want to be friends, and just saw me as easy. Maybe he liked me for a day or six. But he got what he wanted. And moved on.
Why can't I?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Work Crush
I recently got a new job. Before I started, I told myself this would be a career move and I would not be distracted by the hundreds of sexy bankers in my building.
The girl I'd be replacing gave me a brief orientation, and I met some of the team members. Including the twenty-something who'd be my new neighbor (as in directly to the left of me!). He stood up, smiled big, and enthusiastically shook my hand.
A few days later, I took over at my spiffy new desk on a 900-person trading floor. I was unfortunately without computer log on information, so I diligently observed my coworker, Avery (who sits to my right). And I began chatting up that incredibly cute neighbor on my left.
I found out in our many conversations that he'd played hockey at Yale and was from outside of Boston. We had a lot in common and frequently discussed the bar scene at our respective colleges. I quickly realized that aside from some very nicely shaped buns, he was funny and carried with him lots of random facts.
Uh oh.
Soon after IT got my computer up and running, Yale asked for some assistance. I jumped at the opportunity to a) help him and b) attempt to prove myself. While explaining a project, he leaned over me, grabbing my mouse to demonstrate where to click.
I pictured the 898 people around us clearing out immediately so I could have my way with him.
The days went on. We reminisced about college, exchanged stories of the weekend, and commiserated over dried-out contact lenses.
While on our way to happy hour one evening, Avery, my boss, and our fourth admin team member pointed out to me that Yale would be perfect for me. Avery heard our day to day banter, and assured me that he liked me. She even said that prior to my arrival, he was often quiet and hadn't talked to many people as much as he talked to me. I laughed it off and said yes, I'd be interested but thought the girls were perhaps reading into him too much. I thought he was just chatting. Was I making a weak attempt to be career oriented?
A few weeks into our gig, Yale got a seating upgrade and moved a few rows over to more prime real estate. How would I make excuses interact with him now?
Luckily, I didn't have to. Whenever he needed an admin task taken care of, he popped right over. He always replied to my standard e-mail messages with an enthusiastic Thank you! Or even a clever conversation starter. During one of his standard visits, my coworker joked with me via IM that my 'boyfriend was standing behind me'. I responded with a 'lol' and said that if he was in fact interested, he could do something about it. Always wise, she then told me he's probably afraid since employees aren't allowed to date within their department.
Of course. Why did I think I'd have a shot?
Oddly enough, this newest Ivy League work crush was beginning to freakishly remind me of my previous crush on Cornell. I had a reason to look fabulous and someone to look forward to seeing everyday. Though with Yale, it was more friendly than flirty (plus we've yet to have an opportunity to openly flirt without numerous people listening). Despite how cute Yale is and how much I enjoy our exchanges, I'm beginning to wonder if these work crushes develop for a different reason than their utter adorableness.
A Glamour article I read discussed how many of us go for unavailable guys. Have I developed these crushes on coworkers because I know (somewhere in the back of my mind) that the odds of a work crush, even a mutual one, leading to anything beyond just a crush are slim to none? Does toying with the idea of what could be actually garner more excitement than if I had a real shot with this guy? Since thinking about it, I tell myself not to bother even trying to flirt with Yale. Really what's the point? We talk about our weekends and I walk (strut) away, trying not to linger for too long.
But then he'll take an unexpected stroll over to my desk to "check on" the project I'm doing for him. Or walk into the kitchen just seconds after I do. Or e-mail me with a question that could have easily waited until Monday. Excuses to say hi? Not sure. But I can't even pretend I'm not crushing when I find my fingers twisting my ponytail and an unusually girlish giggle coming out of me. Whether it's because he's a great guy or because he's unavailable, I don't know. But for now, at least he can brighten up a boring work day.
The girl I'd be replacing gave me a brief orientation, and I met some of the team members. Including the twenty-something who'd be my new neighbor (as in directly to the left of me!). He stood up, smiled big, and enthusiastically shook my hand.
A few days later, I took over at my spiffy new desk on a 900-person trading floor. I was unfortunately without computer log on information, so I diligently observed my coworker, Avery (who sits to my right). And I began chatting up that incredibly cute neighbor on my left.
I found out in our many conversations that he'd played hockey at Yale and was from outside of Boston. We had a lot in common and frequently discussed the bar scene at our respective colleges. I quickly realized that aside from some very nicely shaped buns, he was funny and carried with him lots of random facts.
Uh oh.
Soon after IT got my computer up and running, Yale asked for some assistance. I jumped at the opportunity to a) help him and b) attempt to prove myself. While explaining a project, he leaned over me, grabbing my mouse to demonstrate where to click.
I pictured the 898 people around us clearing out immediately so I could have my way with him.
The days went on. We reminisced about college, exchanged stories of the weekend, and commiserated over dried-out contact lenses.
While on our way to happy hour one evening, Avery, my boss, and our fourth admin team member pointed out to me that Yale would be perfect for me. Avery heard our day to day banter, and assured me that he liked me. She even said that prior to my arrival, he was often quiet and hadn't talked to many people as much as he talked to me. I laughed it off and said yes, I'd be interested but thought the girls were perhaps reading into him too much. I thought he was just chatting. Was I making a weak attempt to be career oriented?
A few weeks into our gig, Yale got a seating upgrade and moved a few rows over to more prime real estate. How would I make excuses interact with him now?
Luckily, I didn't have to. Whenever he needed an admin task taken care of, he popped right over. He always replied to my standard e-mail messages with an enthusiastic Thank you! Or even a clever conversation starter. During one of his standard visits, my coworker joked with me via IM that my 'boyfriend was standing behind me'. I responded with a 'lol' and said that if he was in fact interested, he could do something about it. Always wise, she then told me he's probably afraid since employees aren't allowed to date within their department.
Of course. Why did I think I'd have a shot?
Oddly enough, this newest Ivy League work crush was beginning to freakishly remind me of my previous crush on Cornell. I had a reason to look fabulous and someone to look forward to seeing everyday. Though with Yale, it was more friendly than flirty (plus we've yet to have an opportunity to openly flirt without numerous people listening). Despite how cute Yale is and how much I enjoy our exchanges, I'm beginning to wonder if these work crushes develop for a different reason than their utter adorableness.
A Glamour article I read discussed how many of us go for unavailable guys. Have I developed these crushes on coworkers because I know (somewhere in the back of my mind) that the odds of a work crush, even a mutual one, leading to anything beyond just a crush are slim to none? Does toying with the idea of what could be actually garner more excitement than if I had a real shot with this guy? Since thinking about it, I tell myself not to bother even trying to flirt with Yale. Really what's the point? We talk about our weekends and I walk (strut) away, trying not to linger for too long.
But then he'll take an unexpected stroll over to my desk to "check on" the project I'm doing for him. Or walk into the kitchen just seconds after I do. Or e-mail me with a question that could have easily waited until Monday. Excuses to say hi? Not sure. But I can't even pretend I'm not crushing when I find my fingers twisting my ponytail and an unusually girlish giggle coming out of me. Whether it's because he's a great guy or because he's unavailable, I don't know. But for now, at least he can brighten up a boring work day.
Tradition Turns... Sloppy
Remember last year when at our area Saint Paddy's Day Parade I got hammered and hooked up in a hotel lobby?
This year, inclement weather kept us from wandering too much, and we remained in the same bar for hours on end. We started drinking around 11 am and I guzzled beer after beer. Pacing myself? Not an option for this event.
Needless to say, by early afternoon I had developed a buzz and was feelin' pretty good. The bar was beginning to get crowded and I was running into acquaintance after acquaintance. After all my friends had gathered, we took our traditional car bombs. When Belinda couldn't finish hers, she gave it to me.
Uh oh.
My hand never void of a beer, I danced around like my usual self. Though drunk, I was also on a natural high since I was so excited that all my close friends were together for this annual event. Always on the prowl, I decided it was necessary to find someone nearby to make out with. Though the guy I was sort of seeing was in the other room of the bar, he wasn't doing it for me that day. Instead, I began getting touchy with one of the guys from our crew. This member of our crew, Marty, happened to be a guy I dated in high school for all of two weeks.
The rest of the afternoon is a bit fuzzy, and I ended up going to that guy I was seeing's apartment for a drunken rendezvous. Definitely nowhere near Marty.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd gotten hit by a train. And while riding said train to work, Janelle informed me that I had made out with Marty.
I suddenly had a moment of clarity.
I looked at my cell phone and saw the outgoing text I was dreading.
"Sex?", sent to Marty at approximately 4:23 pm.
I deleted it, hoping that if it was erased from my phone maybe it'd be erased from memory as well.
Alright so, drunken me made a text proposition. To a guy I had no interest in, unless I had +/- 10 drinks in my system. Who I see frequently. And I was probably within three feet of him when I pressed send.
At least I was direct with my proposal.
I tried to forget, and luckily have yet to have any awkward encounters with Marty. And the girls have reassured me that he was probably just as drunk as I was. Phew. Maybe he forgot he ever recieved it. Even better, maybe he'd never gotten it!
Weeks later, I had moved on from the whole incident. That is until Porter made reference to my erased text.
Another parade day I'll just never live down.
This year, inclement weather kept us from wandering too much, and we remained in the same bar for hours on end. We started drinking around 11 am and I guzzled beer after beer. Pacing myself? Not an option for this event.
Needless to say, by early afternoon I had developed a buzz and was feelin' pretty good. The bar was beginning to get crowded and I was running into acquaintance after acquaintance. After all my friends had gathered, we took our traditional car bombs. When Belinda couldn't finish hers, she gave it to me.
Uh oh.
My hand never void of a beer, I danced around like my usual self. Though drunk, I was also on a natural high since I was so excited that all my close friends were together for this annual event. Always on the prowl, I decided it was necessary to find someone nearby to make out with. Though the guy I was sort of seeing was in the other room of the bar, he wasn't doing it for me that day. Instead, I began getting touchy with one of the guys from our crew. This member of our crew, Marty, happened to be a guy I dated in high school for all of two weeks.
The rest of the afternoon is a bit fuzzy, and I ended up going to that guy I was seeing's apartment for a drunken rendezvous. Definitely nowhere near Marty.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I'd gotten hit by a train. And while riding said train to work, Janelle informed me that I had made out with Marty.
I suddenly had a moment of clarity.
I looked at my cell phone and saw the outgoing text I was dreading.
"Sex?", sent to Marty at approximately 4:23 pm.
I deleted it, hoping that if it was erased from my phone maybe it'd be erased from memory as well.
Alright so, drunken me made a text proposition. To a guy I had no interest in, unless I had +/- 10 drinks in my system. Who I see frequently. And I was probably within three feet of him when I pressed send.
At least I was direct with my proposal.
I tried to forget, and luckily have yet to have any awkward encounters with Marty. And the girls have reassured me that he was probably just as drunk as I was. Phew. Maybe he forgot he ever recieved it. Even better, maybe he'd never gotten it!
Weeks later, I had moved on from the whole incident. That is until Porter made reference to my erased text.
Another parade day I'll just never live down.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Dating Dilemma
My cousin is getting married in a few weeks. Tonight, I am forced to miss three of my good friends' joint birthday party to prepare for tomorrow's shower. Heaven forbid I show up to the shower with the unpleasant grimace of a hangover.
In any case, I suppose I'll just celebrate with the girls another night. But I, at age 23.5, am invited under the umbrella of my parents. And while I'm happy about not having to purchase gifts on my own limited funds, this also eliminates any possibility of bringing a date.
Fret not, there's no one I have an interest in taking. In fact, I thought intensely about who I would bring should I have the option. Would I really like to bring a guy around my ENTIRE extended family? Especially one who isn't my boyfriend? Or unlikely ever going to become my boyfriend? And then bear the questions about him for months (if not years) to come? Unlikely. But what if I did have someone in mind, and didn't have the option to take him. Even if I thought he could handle a bunch of wacky drunks, would I want to bear the thought of answering endless questions? I don't know. But I guess I won't have to worry about it, either.
In any case, I suppose I'll just celebrate with the girls another night. But I, at age 23.5, am invited under the umbrella of my parents. And while I'm happy about not having to purchase gifts on my own limited funds, this also eliminates any possibility of bringing a date.
Fret not, there's no one I have an interest in taking. In fact, I thought intensely about who I would bring should I have the option. Would I really like to bring a guy around my ENTIRE extended family? Especially one who isn't my boyfriend? Or unlikely ever going to become my boyfriend? And then bear the questions about him for months (if not years) to come? Unlikely. But what if I did have someone in mind, and didn't have the option to take him. Even if I thought he could handle a bunch of wacky drunks, would I want to bear the thought of answering endless questions? I don't know. But I guess I won't have to worry about it, either.
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