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Endless Nameless.
Nov. 4th, 2009 08:23 pmLately my romantic life consists of swooning at the (possibly) married architect with the pretty pretty bloo eyes that walks by my cubicle and out my door to smoke his Marlboro Lights a few thousand times a day and hoping he'll remove his hands from the pockets of his Dockers long enough for me to see if there's a ring on it, but he never does. He says all sorts of cute little things and asks me cute little questions, but then backs away nervously as I'm answering them, hands in pockets. He smiles shyly and then disappears altogether back to his architect office until the next hour.
Defeated, I get up to go to the terrible unisex bathroom and reapply whatever portion of my face that surely slid off my face during its exposure to the elements by the door. On my way out of the terrible unisex bathroom that someone has been violently yanking on the door of all throughout my occupancy, I collide with a younger, well-dressed Maynard James Keenany looking architect that always flirts with me and whom is not married and I'm almost positive that's what makes him unattractive to me. "Ladies first!" he says, extending his arm toward the narrow hallway. "At least you look like a lady." I look at him stupidly as I pass by and can't come up with anything other than "Jesus Christ, I hope so" to utter as he mumbles some sort of explanation. But I'm already back at my desk, where I find Yogapants chewing on the licorice I put out for Architect and leaning apathetically over my counter.
"I have a date tonight," says the man I was in love with for 2 month solid, "She's got black hair and bangs like you, which I'm not into, but whatever. Where should I take her? Do I grab her ass or what?"
But in the face of all of this, I.T. Guy invited me to his going-away-party at the bar tomorrow night, because he got a promotion across town. I fully intend to drunkenly make out with him.
Defeated, I get up to go to the terrible unisex bathroom and reapply whatever portion of my face that surely slid off my face during its exposure to the elements by the door. On my way out of the terrible unisex bathroom that someone has been violently yanking on the door of all throughout my occupancy, I collide with a younger, well-dressed Maynard James Keenany looking architect that always flirts with me and whom is not married and I'm almost positive that's what makes him unattractive to me. "Ladies first!" he says, extending his arm toward the narrow hallway. "At least you look like a lady." I look at him stupidly as I pass by and can't come up with anything other than "Jesus Christ, I hope so" to utter as he mumbles some sort of explanation. But I'm already back at my desk, where I find Yogapants chewing on the licorice I put out for Architect and leaning apathetically over my counter.
"I have a date tonight," says the man I was in love with for 2 month solid, "She's got black hair and bangs like you, which I'm not into, but whatever. Where should I take her? Do I grab her ass or what?"
But in the face of all of this, I.T. Guy invited me to his going-away-party at the bar tomorrow night, because he got a promotion across town. I fully intend to drunkenly make out with him.
