Desperately Dating: Keep Your Fantasies Out of the Office!
He had wavy brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and sculpted arms… that was the beginning of the end of my relationship!
It was 5 o’clock on a gorgeous Friday afternoon and I was stuck inside the office at some ridiculously boring retirement party for Gladys, our receptionist. Of course, management picked this god-awful time to have the party. The reason: To ensure that we wouldn’t miss an hour of our oh-so-important jobs of badgering people to enroll in colleges they cannot afford. I was going to fake a stomach ache and head out the door, but, because Gladys often supplied me with bags of Starbursts and gave me Bath and Body Works anti-bacterial gels for my birthday, I decided to stay out of respect. Besides, there was a totally hot new guy named Jorge who needed to be welcomed to the company, and I happily volunteered to sit next to him while Gladys’s offered up pieces of her farewell marble sheet cake.
Jorge was one sexy specimen of a man with his wavy brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and sculpted arms. His most important asset, however, was that he was sans a wedding ring! I soon discovered that he was transferred here from our corporate office to apprentice for awhile because he was in line for management. I told Jorge that if he had any problems with my job performance he should not hesitate to tell me what he thought I could do to improve it. Of course I didn’t give a crap about my job performance; I just wanted him to stand close to me in my cubicle. In fact, my plan for the remainder of Jorge’s stay here was to mess up as much as possible to have him do just that. I knew my drooling over Jorge wasn’t exactly proper because I was technically still involved with someone. However, because my boyfriend and I couldn’t even pick out a movie to watch without a fight that resembled something out of the WWF, I figured a break-up was near. I thought it was a safe bet to start picking out some rebound men to help with my future recovery.
Monday morning arrived and I showed up to work looking like I just walked off the set of Mad Men. I was wearing my form-fitting pencil skirt, polka dot peephole shirt, and cherry red stilettos. I was ready for Jorge’s full attention and boy, did I get it. He was in and out of my cubicle more times than Lindsey Lohan was in and out of rehab! When he did occasionally step out of it, he left behind the lingering scent of Polo like a tiger marking his territory. Jorge was not only amazing to look at, but he was also so sweet. He brought me coffee and complimented me on my phone manners. He even filled my stapler– I mean, who could resist? The whole week went pretty much the same way, and by Friday, I was out of pencil skirts and out of patience. The sexual tension between us was becoming unbearable and I wanted direction from Jorge in the bedroom, not just the office.
Over the weekend I broke up with my boyfriend, Tank. I just couldn’t take another Saturday night of screaming at a Red Box over an Adam Sandler movie. I was upset, but knew I could now pursue my slutty fantasies with no guilt and Jorge fulfilled them completely on Monday in our office supply room. It was exciting, passionate, and we only knocked over a few bottles of white-out. With Jorge being my manager and my lover, work actually became a wonderful place to be. I even requested to work overtime! I was going to need the extra money anyway if I wanted to keep up the “office Lolita” wardrobe Jorge and I have become accustomed to.
After only two weeks, I noticed Jorge’s management skills were needed more frequently three cubicles over from me by Stacia, the 20-something bobble-headed blonde’s desk. Also, he was no longer meeting me in the supply room for our lunch break rendezvous. I wanted to believe it was because he really just wanted to try out the new lunch truck that started visiting recently, but unlike most, I actually was blessed with common sense. It was quite apparent that Jorge was now giving private training sessions to Stacia, especially when I saw the prints of her pink lipstick on his neck one afternoon. This all made me absolutely sick. I didn’t even want to share my pencil sharpener with Stacia, let alone a man. I wasn’t about to continue to watch this cubicle Cassonava “supervise” the ladies of our office anymore. I confronted Jorge in the parking lot at the end of the work day. He told me he was sorry that he mislead me in anyway, but he just wants to play the field (I just love when men compare women’s vaginas to a soccer game). Knowing Jorge was not going to stop “playing the field” in my office, I did what any responsible worker would do in such a situation: I left an anonymous note on the desk of the office head requesting his presence in the office supply room at lunch time.
Jorge was given his walking papers and I was given quite a nice raise for all the extra hours I devoted—all for the sake of the company of course. Sadly, though, work has become boring again and I have become extremely regretful that I broke up with my boyfriend. I realized that I jumped the gun—well, the manager—way too quickly. I wanted to call Tank and beg him for forgiveness. I also wanted to call TJ Maxx and beg them to let me return all the slightly used cheap lingerie I bought for my Jorge-trysts. However, I knew I would just have to suck this up as another lesson learned in my world of desperately dating. Fantasies should remain in your head, not in your office supply room.
In a previous life, Gianine Nelson was a college student studying nutrition and working in the medical field. After spending time contemplating the human condition, she decided her addiction to donuts and writing about the crazy world of dating was her true passion.