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Backdoor Lana

5 Apr

Salutations, my friends.  And a happy Friday to you!  Know what makes this an amazing Friday?  I quit my job yesterday.  Yes, it’s true, I’m blowing this popsicle stand. I’m out of this bitch, y’all.

More on my exit later.

Let’s talk about what a small world this is.  My boss is also planning on getting out of here, she too dislikes this place.  I had hoped we could give our notice at the same time so her boss could freak out and panic.  Alas, it won’t happen at the same time.  It could, however, happen a few weeks apart.

This afternoon my boss had a second interview at an organization which is far more up her alley.  Mainly because they’re nice to people and they’re smart.  Plus you can wear jeans to work.  Also, you don’t have to deal with people who think they’re amazing but can’t figure out how to send an email from Outlook.  She showed me her interview schedule yesterday, and wouldn’t you know it, there was a name on there which I recognized.  As luck would have it, I used to work with one of her interviewers, Backdoor Lana.

Back when I was a baby working at Investments r Us she was in one of my very first training classes.  Her class was amazing!  Had a great time with them – mainly being inappropriate and getting drunk with them, and I developed friendships with a number of them.  One of them, Harley Davidson, was a bit of a bad boy with green eyes.  He rode a motorcycle and went to Sturgis.  He smoked weed.  He had longish hair.  He was a rebel, and he was hot.  While he was in the training class, he had a girlfriend and was off limits.  Months later he and his girlfriend broke up.  We started flirting over email, and talked about how we’d hook up if we ever ended up in the same state – he worked out of the West Coast office.

Then BLAM! I got sent out to the West Coast for 2 weeks for work.  We were gonna bone.

At that time his roommate was Backdoor Lana and they’d hook up every once in awhile.  Typically she was the one who would make the first move, and he’d go along with it because he was a dude and he wanted to get laid.  As she and I were friends she would tell me about hooking up with him and she said she knew we’d been emailing and she highly recommended a romp with him.  Thumbs up, she’d make herself scarce.

Um.  Weird, but whatever.

Long story short, we boned.

Next day she wanted to hear details, I didn’t tell her.  She asked me if we did anal.  “UH, NO!” was my response (or something like that because uh, no).  Then she went off for about 20 minutes about how much she loved it and how great he was at it and how she couldn’t sit down the next day, but she couldn’t get enough.  I passed on the butt love from him.  Even the next time I flew out there and boned him again.  He was gifted, that was for sure, but I’m not into backdoor loving.  Not my bag.

Shortly after the last time I was out there she announced to him that she was in love with him and she wanted for them to date exclusively.  He had always been straight with her about just being fuck buddies with her.  As you can imagine, it put all kinds of strain on their relationship.  He ended up moving out.  He met a girl.  He’s now married and has a few kids.

And now she’s a senior executive at this firm and she could potentially be my boss’s new boss.

How about that for a small world?

Also, Monsieur le Baguette and I are moving in together.

Dumb Dumb

26 Feb

Oh hey, everyone.  What’s up?  How are you?  How have you been?  What’s new?  How’s your hair?

All good here.  Still with MlB.  Still hate my job.  Still a fatty.

What’s new on my end is that the dude who once was my work boyfriend is a complete idiot and I think he’s missing some brain cells.  He’s dumb.  Like legit dumb.  He’s also on the cusp of getting fired.  And he’s creeping me out because he’s in love with me and it’s totally obvious – even people on my team have said something.  Most recently after a leadership team meeting when he commented several times on how much he likes my hair.

[insert side eye here]

Listen, I know I’m irresistible and stuff, but imma pass on you.  No want.  I don’t care for people who are dumb.  My tolerance drops a whole lot for their stupidity.  It used to be fun to flirt and chat with him, and then when I realized he was a bit of a Dumb Dumb I stopped flirting.  Now every single time he comes into my office I take the opportunity to talk about my boyfriend and his dreamy blue-green eyes and how much fun we’re having and did I mention I have a boyfriend? Also, I have a boyfriend.  Etc. boyfriend.

For the last few months he’s been getting some tough feedback on his inability to do his job.  The feedback is legit.  He seems to either not get it at all or lacking the ability to absorb what he’s hearing.  He always has an excuse for why something didn’t get done, and it’s always to blame someone else.  He says he can do the job, but then will ask the dumbest question on the planet.  There are a lot of confused faces when he does that.

Yesterday afternoon we had a leadership team meeting where we discussed sharing some feedback with the rest of our team.  We agreed that we’d act as a united front and hold off on telling the rest of the team the news until the team meeting.  He interpreted that as, “I must now go and tell my team.”  Only he did it in a way that made everyone defensive and they’re throwing up all kinds of drama and they’ve started talking to everyone else and now there’s all sorts of paranoia and swirl.

Did I miss something?  When did “don’t say anything” turn into “go and tell everyone?”  Me know understand.

Pretty sure that when he gets fired in the coming weeks he’ll say he never saw it coming.  Even though our boss has been crystal clear by using terms such as “this isn’t working” and “why do I have to keep asking you to do the same thing over and over again” or “why did you miss that deadline after I told you it was a priority” or “when you were off at happy hour I had to stay late do do your job.”

Dumb ass.

An ordinary extraordinary day

6 Nov

Election day.  People are heading out to vote in hopes their voices will be heard.  They’ll wear their little “I voted” stickers with pride.  We’ll all be hopeful tonight that our candidates will win.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed we go more blue than red – I did my part in early voting.

In some respects it’s an ordinary Tuesday.

Rainy morning with Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper singing about not knowing what love is.  I’m sitting in the dining room at Monsieur le Baguette’s house.  My coffee cup is half empty (or is it half full?), and my work emails have been read.  There’s an open book beside me and kids’ toys are strewn in the corner near the bookcase.

This morning he woke up early, went out to vote, and made us both coffee.  Then he crawled back in bed next to me.  What is it about having someone wrapped around you that’s so comforting?  An hour of just laying there, sipping coffee, and pretending neither of us had anything to do.

It was divine.

He finally got up, showered and went to work.  I walked down the steps to take my place at the dining room table to do work.  The joys of working remotely include not having to get up extra early and shower before going into the office.  You have the luxury of taking calls in jammies.  At some point, though, you gotta wash off yesterday’s funk. You can imagine my delight when I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a toasty warm towel – he’d turned on the towel warmer for me.  Yes, he has a towel warmer.  Yes, he knows how to use it.  Yes, he’s still thoughtful.

My job is absolute shit.  Most days between the hours of 7:00 AM – 6:00 PM I can feel the prickly hint of anxiety right under my skin.  On the verge of tears when I walk into the building in the morning.  Wanting to walk out of the office and never return.  After an incredibly shitty day last week, MlB asked me, “Why are you torturing yourself?  You know you’re going to leave.  Why wait?”  He’s so right.  So the search begins and while it seems I’m on the cusp of a panic attack most days, knowing the end is near and the countdown can start makes it much easier.

In the meantime, I have these moments with him which make the days far better than they could be.  A random weekday sleepover. A FaceTime breakfast on a Saturday morning while one of his daughters introduces me to every single stuffed animal in his house.  A goodnight text with the emoji kissy face.

Today I’ll remain stationed at the dining room table until he comes home to me.  We’ll head off into the city for date night.  We’ll fall asleep next to each other.

In some respects it’s an extraordinary Tuesday.

I’ll take two

29 Oct

Lord have mercy!  How is one to resist a set of dimples and a pair of dreamy blue eyes?  Instead one finds ways of luring those dimples and dreamy blue eyes into her office.  While there, she makes lots of terrible jokes, just so she can see the dimples on full display.

Kids, my work husband, The Cyclist, is a full fledged dreamboat.  He typically wears suits in the office – and he fills them out pretty well.  A few weeks ago I saw him in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt.  Far out.  He’s packing some serious guns.  We were at an all day event and I found myself drifting towards him several times that day.  I had to pay attention to not sitting too close to him and “accidentally” smacking his arms.  You’ll be pleased to know I controlled myself.

Monsieur le Baguette knows all about him.  The day I met The Cyclist I told MlB he was like MlB only with a suit and tie.  Totally true.  People who have met both of them have said how much they seem alike.  Not in looks, mind you, but in their personalities.  MlB and I are both, shall we say, doughy.  The Cyclist is full muscle, at least that’s what it looks like to me.  He’s meant for climbing on (like a fucking jungle gym), where MlB is meant to snuggle with.  A few weeks ago MlB came into the office and I introduced him to everyone on the team.  When he met The Cyclist he turned to me and said, “is this work me?”  It was somewhat strange to see them in the same room and watch them shake each other’s hands.  Almost Twilight Zoneish.

In some ways it’s convenient to have two of them.  Since MlB and I live in different cities and only see each other a few times a month I get to have him some of the time, and then I get to gawk at The Cyclist during the rest of the time.  Seems totally reasonable and acceptable to me.

Good call or bad call?  I invited The Cyclist to go to a full day off site training program with me.

Checking In

5 Oct

Amazing what a little therapy and some conversations about feelings can do for a relationship. My therapist has been helping me to chill the fuck out.  And Monsiuer le Baguette?  He’s been good.  Once I told him I was starting to feel the distance he upped his game and re-engaged.  Phone calls and texts everyday, telling me how much he missed me, saying he was sorry that he’d been less than attentive. It’s been 2 months since we had that conversation and he’s been fully present – or as much as he can be since after he came home and we saw each other we then went another month without seeing each other.

After his long ass trip away, we reunited during a tropical vacation.  We met in the airport in the Bahamas.  Romance, my friends, poor romance – it was our “Love Actually” moment.  Rushing into each others arms all hugs and kisses while we made everyone want to vomit with our “I missed you’s” and “I’m so happy to see you.”  And just like that all the distance melted and we were golden. Back to the moments I love when he mindlessly reaches for my hand when we’re walking, or when he places his hand on my leg when we’re sitting next to each other.  When he throws his arm over me in the middle of the night, then reaches the other under my pillow and holds my hand.  Eased right back into all of it.

The Saturday we were together was stupid romantic, silly romantic.  We slept in, we went to the beach, he held my hand while we went snorkeling – it was just the 2 of us by the reefs completely surrounded by fish.  He went back to the room for a bit and I stayed at the beach.  When he got back he told me he’d gone ahead and made plans for us for the rest of the weekend, including a champagne party that night and and anniversary dinner for our last night together.  We curled up on the lounge chair on our balcony and watched the sunset together, he was the big spoon.  The champagne party that night was on the beach.  As you can imagine, there was a lot of champagne and then there was a make out session on the beach.  There were L bombs exchanged.  Pure romance.

We saw each other again the following weekend, and then I flew across the world to hang out with Whiskey Tango Foxtrot for her 40th birthday.  She and I had a fucking blast – packed every single minute with stuff to do.  Can’t decide if the most fun part was her birthday party and stealing all of her friends, or the time when we met up with friends for dinner.  A glass of wine and dinner turned into a bottle and a half of wine and then whiskey.  Why, God, why did the whiskey have to come out.  Fun fact, which Whiskey Tango Foxtrot doesn’t know about (until she reads this), sometimes to ensure I can stop drinking I pour extra booze for those around me, I may have done that…Let’s just say the night included having to ask the uber driver to pull over so she could pull over and throw up on her shoes.  Good times, good times.

Anyway, back to Monsieur le Baguette…

7 months in and we’re in a great spot.  I’m currently sitting at his dining room table while he takes a conference call in his office.  We have the whole weekend together after not having seen each other for a month.

He went out this morning to buy provisions to make me breakfast.  When I took my seat at the makeshift office I’ve made for myself, I saw he’d put a fresh box of tissues next to my computer.  I’ve been battling a cold the last few days and he’s made sure I have everything I need to make myself comfortable.  He made my coffee this morning.

Tomorrow we’re hitting a major relationship milestone: we’re going to IKEA together and then we’re going to attempt to build some furniture.  We’re both stupid excited to do it.

So for those of you who’ve reached out to ask how things are going, they’re good.  I’m happy.

 

Left Behind

25 Jul

What he says: I’m leaving on vacation.

What I hear: I’m leaving you.

Ah, the joys of abandonment issues.  I highly recommend never developing them – because they’re lame.  As long as I can remember any time one of my boyfriends left for an extended period of time it meant they were leaving forever.  I’d like to thank my dad walking out on my family when I was little for the irrational belief.

There’s the niggling little voice who has taken residence in the back of my head.  Chanting encouraging things like, “Destined to fail.   You won’t make it through.  He’s left you behind.”  A voice I know well.  A voice I give too much credit too and don’t know how to silence.  The one who, when any gap in communication happens pops up with, “he’s lost interest in you.”  Logically, I know feelings don’t change that quickly – emotionally, I buy into every single thing the voice tells me.  I look for my escape route and plan my exit so I can do it before he does.  The end is easier if I make myself believe it was my choice to end things, that I had some control over it.

MLB is off in Europe for the next month with his kids.  Fantasy adventure dream vacation.  The absolute best for them.

Meanwhile, I’m here biting my fingernails and talking myself off the ledge for being ridiculous.  In the lead up to his leaving last week I had to keep reminding myself we weren’t saying goodbye forever, it was just goodbye for now.  I wanted our last night together to be special and magical.  He told me I was making the goodbye into a bigger deal than it had to be, we would see each other in a few weeks, it was just vacation.

The morning we said our goodbyes I struggled to keep it together, believing everything would unravel and it was the end.  He kissed me and handed me a card and told me to read it later.  Nail in coffin.  Obviously this was the dear John letter where he had written things would be different when he was back, life would change, our relationship couldn’t continue as it could.  It was over.  Because this is how my mind works.  The end is near!!  The end is always near.

I ripped open the card and wept like a tiny baby.  Phrases like “head over heels for you” and “I can’t wait for the coming months” and “I’m going to miss you.”  Swoon, right?  Everything I wanted to read.  Comforting words about how the next month was just that, a month in which we’d be apart and then we’d be back together again.  That’s good, right?  The day he left we talked a few times, we exchanged our text messages with L-bombs.  We made plans for when he’d get back.

We talked this afternoon for the first time since he left (2 days ago). And the voice says to me, “Notice how distant he seems.  You have nothing to talk about.  He’s getting bored with you.  How can you possibly keep him interested for the next month?”

How does one silence the voice?  Shut it up and make it go away?  What’s the trick?

 

Sweet Imaginary Office Romance

16 Jul

Ah, the secret boyfriend.  So secret he doesn’t even know about it.  Is it cheating if you have a real boyfriend and a secret boyfriend at the same time?  No lines crossed – except for when you stare into his dreamy green eyes a second too long.

The Cyclist joined our team about a month ago.  When I met him during the interview he reminded me so much of Monsieur le Baguette (MLB).  Two primary differences, The Cyclist looked smashing in a pin stripe suit with suspenders (swoon with me now) and I’ve never seen MLB in a suit; and MLB has dreamy blue green eyes where The Cyclist has dreamy green eyes.  They’re both divorced.  They both have kids the same age.  They seem to have a similar sense of humor, not 100% sure of The Cyclist’s since he and I haven’t gone out and gotten drunk – yet.

Every morning he has to walk by my office and he’ll pop in to chat for a few minutes.  We were the last 2 in the office on Friday afternoon, and talk turned to happy hour and where we like to go drinking.  I had mentioned I was heading out but wasn’t feeling it since MLB and I had gone out the night before and I had woken up still drunk.  “Morning sex is the best,” he said to me.  “Ugh.  I was too hungover to do anything this morning.” I replied.  “I don’t want to know,” he responded.

Yes he fucking does.

So whatever, we went off our separate ways after agreeing to go out and grab a drink sometime.

I went home to an empty house as MLB had gone off for a boys’ weekend which was basically a 2 day bender.  Yesterday morning when we were texting he told me he was planning on leaving early and wanted to come and stay with me.  Um, yes.  We had a nice night.  I rocked it as the little spoon, he hogged the bed, he was adorable.  Usually, when he sleeps over during the week he gets up when I do and feeds Mr. Bojangles then makes me coffee.  Think the bender got to him as he was dead to the world.  When I woke him up to tell him I was leaving he tried to pull me back into bed with him.  Tempting, but dating him is expensive and I gotta pay my bills.

Sitting at my desk this morning and the emails start popping through from The Cyclist.  Questions about how the weekend went, plans for the week, etc.  A secret romance is blossoming.