Office Romance

Over the years I’ve had mini crushes on co-workers. The one thing they have all had in common is that they’re not overtly handsome and they’re all married. So of course nothing has ever happened. My little fantasies have stayed in my head where they belong. I’ve largely kept them to myself. Until now.

Oops. I told a tiny lie. The first co-worker I ever had a crush on I ended up having a four-year relationship with. But he wasn’t married. But we did have sex on the floor of the shop that his dad owned. He was actually my first boyfriend. Go big or go home. Am I right, bitches?

The next one I remember was the manager of the golf store I worked at for a summer. Jon. He seemed innocent. Easy to talk to. Bought me frozen yogurt on my birthday. But then he invited me over for chocolate chip cookies. That his wife made. Before she went out of town. I may have been only 20, but I knew what that meant. I declined and then told my mom all about it. He was a “family friend.”

I worked with Tom for nearly eight years. Not conventionally handsome. More goofy. But hilarious. His ringtone for his wife was “Fat Bottomed Girls.” He claimed that she requested it. He talked about how crazy she was, but in an affectionate tone. How she made sunscreen and put it in tiny jars. He made fun of her in a way that wasn’t making fun as much as bragging about how great she was. Completely endearing. And, lord, did that man make me laugh. I don’t know if he realized that half the women in the office had crushes on him. He played some instrument (trumpet? sax?) in a band and they played downtown one night. During a break, he ended up sitting next to me and someone I didn’t know mistook me for his wife. Death stares from the other office groupies.

One of the latest is the facilities manager at my “new” job. Nerdy. Just like I like. Tall. And so friendly. He has zero reason to make any effort with me but he does. Elevators are the worst but he is so good at elevator conversation. And so tall. But then he started throwing doughnuts around in a meeting. You’d think that would be a turn-on, but it was like he was trying too hard. And he didn’t throw any my way. Rude.

Lately, it’s the “redneck.” I can’t explain it. He wears a baseball cap every day so he’s probably covering up some kind of hair loss. Plaid shirts. And he doesn’t talk. He does open the door for me. Even if he’s two steps behind me in the hall, he makes sure to get to the door before I do. Or he’ll stand there a beat too long waiting for me to get to it. He ducks his head and focuses on whatever-his-job-is. Until today. He waits four months to speak and tells the funniest joke I’ve heard since I’ve been there. Plus. Adorable southern accent. Damn his 6-month old. And three-year-old. And the wife, of course.

You know, I can’t leave out the Psychology professor. Bald and Old. As old as I am now, but I was 20 back then so he seemed ancient. He bragged about how his wife still looked good in leather skirts and how their daughter was humiliated by this “fact.” His nose was too big but he thought I was smart and that was enough. I didn’t need the extra office hours but I used them anyway. On Saturdays.

Do you get the running theme here? Basically a man just has to make me feel attractive. Or smart. Or important. Or amuse me.

I’m so easy. And yet so single.










~ by Kat on December 30, 2015.

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