Tag Archives: work

PlaybookPages {Tying-up Loose Ends}

3 Nov

Looking back at the last two months, I swear things have happened in my dating/sex life; yet somehow everything has seemed so blah that it hasn’t seemed worth writing about.

I guess this is partially because my “real” life has been fairly hectic as of late: working lots of doubles, trying to advance in the corporate world. I got new roommates and with that, of course, came new trials at home. I got a cat {his name is MJ}, and as you can imagine it’s basically been like having a child. Speaking of children my best friend just had a baby… now, after meeting him in all of his two week-old glory, all I secretly want is to do in life {like tomorrow} is get married and have a baby. But ahh! I digress…

Along with my “real life” complications have come some very interesting {and awkward} moments with people I work with–some with people “below me” on the ladder and even more with people “above me.” I could write pages and pages on how weird I feel that I’ve encountered the inevitable{?} advances by a superior with only my mere career hanging over my head… But I won’t. We all have heard these stories and if there is a lesson to be learned it’s this: only have mentors of the same sex, only meet in groups or for lunch, and most importantly–no matter HOW wonderful free drinks sound–DON’T talk work stuff one-on-one over drinks. Period. It’s the only way to avoid the ones who consider themselves “kind of married.” And nothing is more awkward than convincing your drunk and weaving “kind of married” confidant that they should get in a cab and go home…after you were supposed to have a meeting about interviewing for jobs. Oy.

So, I partially haven’t written because of my life {bleh} and I partially haven’t written because I feel like everyone I’ve met recently has turned into a dead-end {double bleh}. Thus, it’s time to take some of these ends and tie them up.

NonDate: After much anxiety and a couple of whiskey drinks, we ended up hooking up on my couch the night he stayed at my house. The following night, a group of us went to a ridiculously flashy {trendy, somewhat overrated} club in meat-packing, and he and I played pretend bf and gf for a night: made out on the dance floor, danced the night away, held hands and talked to people on the smoking porch. Then he flew home a few drunk hours later. Now we just text from time to time about our pretend, soon-to-be born child. You know, the usual.

HomeGrown: We went to an awesome concert together and had a lovely moment at the end where his arms were around my waist and his head leaning on my head. When we said goodbye though, he didn’t really kiss me. Like he kissed me, but we didn’t make out. Then he went to LA for the Jewish holiday, and when he got back {I presume he got back, that is…} I never heard from him. Then I awkwardly ran into him at another football watch party. And he was wearing jeans and a blazer… AT A FOOTBALL GAME. Yuck. Needless to say I felt a lot better that I hadn’t heard from him.

OK, well that’s only two… So, I guess that’s not that bad. There are two more, but they require a little more explanation. That shall come soon {I promise}.

A few ends tied, a few to go.


Playbook Pages {workcrush update}

19 Aug

Seeing you makes my day happier… 🙂

As I hit send on my sappy g-chat message, I realize I actually mean it.

My work crush and I had hung out a total of 3 times outside of work, but I was starting to realize that I wanted to see him more often. I first noticed it when I had to sit and interview possible roommates off of Craigslist. I set-up a four hour block of time for strangers to just pop in and out of my life. For both my safety and my sanity, I didn’t want to sit there alone; somehow, when I realized I needed a buddy, the first person I thought of was WorkCrush.

The second time I noticed it was when he had to leave my open-house to go to improv practice {yes, I said improv practice}, and I didn’t want him to go. So, we made plans to go to a movie later that night and it tied me over.

A few nights later, when he slipped away from his department to walk me to the bus stop, I got it again–the same little tug that I didn’t want him to leave. It got worse when I was on the bus and realized that I wished he was coming over after he got off.

And then today, when I snuck into the studio to give him a hug, I realized I wish we got off of work at the same time so I could be around him a little longer.
Could it be that I have an ACTUAL crush on my WorkCrush?

When my chat box starts to blink, I get a little nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent that! But then I read his response…

The feeling is mutual. I was just thinking about that same thing.

Playbook Pages {work crush}

3 Aug

I really wasn’t sure how the night was going to go. After the exchange of a few very cheesy text messages (not my style), my hopes were not super high. But, with the craving for a margarita creeping up and the possibility of going back to sleep slipping away, I figured I had little to lose. Running my usual 15-minutes late, I walked swiftly down 2nd Ave toward the Mexican restaurant. As a I walked, I continued to talk myself out of caring about the casual meeting. Thus, when the front of the restaurant came into sight, I felt taken aback.

There he was. Leaning up against the construction outside of the restaurant in all of his WorkCrush glory. Big tan arms coming out of his t-shirt sleeves, big man-legs filling his jeans, all propped-up by navy Chucks. Cute cute cute. I instantly got a HUGE smile on my face and that fluttery feeling flooded my stomach. Whoa there. Get a hold of yourself. This is nothing, remember?

Over drinks and food we talked about work and our career paths; we talked about our families and being away from home; we talked about music and playing instruments; we covered some serious topics (he used to be 300 lbs); we laughed about stupid stuff. Overall, it was going well.

Looking at the time I reluctantly reminded him that I needed to get back into bed to sleep before my overnight shift. He offered to walk me home. On the way he pointed out the bubble trolley thing that goes over the East River to Roosevelt Island; he said it was his favorite random thing to do–I admitted I’d never been on it. With the promise of just a 30-minute detour, I agreed to ride it. The view was nice, but when we got off, I didn’t feel like getting right back on. We ventured onto a very deserted Roosevelt Island and sat by the river.

I don’t really know how it happened, but before I knew it we were making out furiously on the grass. My shoes were off, my headband thrown somewhere behind me, my dress being scandalously pushed up my legs. Then he was on top of me, my legs wrapped around his body. Then I was on top of him, both of us sitting-up, while he pulled my hips into his waist. When we finally stopped for air I noticed a few things that somehow hadn’t mattered in the moment: it was raining, I was bleeding, and it was late.

Once settled at my desk and finally feeling calm, I began to notice the toll the night had taken on my appearance: the smudges of dirt on my forearms and legs, the scrapes on the tops of my feet, the grass stains on the back of my dress.

Maybe was just the lasting effect of the tequila, but–as I sat firmly in my office chair–I still felt a little like I was floating.