You see, I have two office crushes.
Part of me believes that everything –EVERYTHING — in life is about timing. That a person with whom you could have been best friends, or lifetime lovers, might simply pass beneath your radar if you meet them at the wrong time. This is especially true in dating. I think there was no way on earth Lieu and I could ever have worked. He was just too damaged at the time I met him to do anything more than take take take.
Thus, the woman posed with him and his children in his current profile picture on Facebook, which I saw for the first time at midnight last night after strenuously not looking for seven months, is not a better or more worthy person than me. She merely has better luck. Most people do (in the global 1% we all dwell in, at least.) She probably also has a graduate degree, and a controlling personality, and a history of never doing anything interesting nor wearing eyeliner. Whatever! I FEEL FINE ABOUT IT SO DON’T ASK ME.
Where was I again? Right.
So, in my last post I confessed my terrible dilemma about that one guy, and everyone judged me because it is horrible. Believe me, I know this. From now on we shall call him the Inappropriate Object (IO), so that we don’t give his name any power. (In real life, he shares a name with my best friend, so I never ever say it aloud anyway, because ick.)
I said I felt the click when I met him, and I did. BUT. What if the click isn’t so much about him as it is about…me?
You know how it is when you start dating someone that you like, and all of a sudden you start getting all kinds of male attention? We tend to say that it’s the glow of new love. But maybe it’s just because you’re throwing off all of this sex energy all of a sudden — because of the phase of the moon or the phase of your menstrual cycle or some kind of pollen-driven psychic shift that hasn’t been pinpointed — and New Guy You’re Dating just happens to be the first lucky soul to pick up what you’re laying down.
I’m saying that maybe we are all essentially like those fish that release their gametes into the water and wait for babies to grow. Sperm meets egg because they happen to be in the same place at the same time. There’s nothing cosmic about it (excluding the effect the moon has upon the tide.)
I’m saying that maybe we are all surrounded by opportunities for love and affection all the time, and that we just have to be in the right frame of mind to see them.
I’m saying that it’s mostly about pheremones and hormones, and mine are going CRAZY for the past couple of months. At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head whoa whoa whoa I’m on fire, etc.
I’m saying that there is another man who has caught my eye, and we call him the Office Crush. He is adorable. He is appropriate (except for being seven years younger than I am.) He is creative and quiet and bearded. He sits next to me, and I am always aware of him. When the IO calls me (a dozen times a day) I stop thinking about him as soon as I can and turn my thoughts to the Office Crush. I keep scented lotion at my desk so I can smooth some on before I step into the Office Crush’s office under some trumped-up pretense. He intrigues me. He asks me for input on things that do not require my input at all, and I lean way over his monitor to give it. (That is how one flirts when impeded by office furniture. I think. I’m a bit rusty, what with the no dates for 18 months.)
And after tomorrow — my last day at my current job — there is no reason why I should ever see or talk to Office Crush again.
I am terrible at knowing if men like me. Whatever I suspect, I can always talk myself into the opposite. I have tried and tried to send every signal I can to the Office Crush, and sometimes I think he really is picking up what I’m laying down…and sometimes I think he’s just a polite person who has decent social graces. We are, after all, colleagues.
So, tomorrow. Should I:
a) Keep sending out strong psychic signals and hope he responds by suggesting we do something outside work.
b) Take it upon myself to suggest that we do something outside work. (“We should get drinks some time.” Or “We should hang out some time.” Or “We should make out some time.”)
c) Leave him a note to find on Monday. (“I’d like to hang out with you outside work. If that sounds like fun, here’s my email address. If not, that’s okay too.”)
d) Stop thinking lascivious thoughts about my male colleagues at the extraordinarily paranoid and litigious corporation where we work.
e) Die alone and be eaten by cats. Even though I don’t like cats. (I think he has cats.)
Advise me, please.