I don’t usually write about this stuff. These stories of infatuation I see all over the place remind me of the time I spent in college chasing girls. The older a man gets, the more rational his thought process becomes.
Or so I thought.
Now, there’s this new chic at the office.
I don’t do office romances, there’s too much drama involved.
Relationships are defined by what isn’t said. If you’re shagging nani in accounting, chances are you won’t speak to each other at work, but she WILL notice you checking out Legal’s ass and your comment on Sales’ Facebook wall.
Instant drama, just add water cooler.
Now, back to my current predicament, the hot mama. Now this mama isn’t hot in the nice way. Her beauty is not the kind that inspires artists to paint or sculpt museum pieces, no no no.
This chick is straight freaky.
This is the kind of mama you meet on the rave and start thinking logistics.
-How much cash do I have?
-How many drinks should I buy?
-Do I have condoms in the house? etc etc.
Make no mistake, this does not mean that the chick is easy, in fact it’s quite the contrary. A lot of work is required to get into her pants.
The thing is there are beautiful women in this world, the type you see and want to smile, the secret weapon of every successful sales force, (refer to museum bit above) and then there are women who look like sex.
Now the main problem is, to a newbie, the successful completion of an item of work is a feat indistinguishable from magic.
You’re fresh out of college, good grades, you passed the interview. You sincerely believe you are the best thing since sliced bread.
That’s of course until you’re assigned a task other than fetching coffee, that’s when things get thick (literally)
So naturally newbies will ask for your help, and naturally you’ll sort the thing out in a few minutes. I mean, you can’t afford to look bad at your next appraisal. Pulling such stunts displays leadership!! Initiative even!
That’s where it starts.
Until then you were just some guy at the office, but now, you’re a bona fide knight-in-shiny-suit (on a related note, Fuck you White Rose Drycleaners, that was my best suit! #FAIL)
Phase one is Facebook. For some silly reason I insist on using my actual name on Facebook. This is not how its done nowadays. You’re supposed to change your “name” to match the wiggly security word that pops up when you access your settings. This lapse in judgment means that I’m pretty easy to find on Facebook. So now, we’re friends.
Then it starts. Back in the day it was easy for a dude to say that a chick liked everything he said, now, there’s actual proof on Facebook. Likes and comments then private messages (or whatever they call DMs on FB). But here’s the thing, the mama isn’t actually saying anything. Just wow, that’s an interesting link, or “haha”
What happened is now, the rest of the office has noticed, so Legal has stopped pointing her ass in my direction and Sales has started getting frosty. Then all of a sudden an opportunity to go out of town on business has presented itself and I’ve to choose an assistant to go with. Its between sexy thang-thang and some two dudes.
It’s a week-long assignment and it’s intense. What should I do?
What’s on my Playlist?
Monifah – Do you really wanna touch it?