Things have drastically changed and this guy and I have grown closer. Still as friends, but closer altogether.
But I've moved further... Moved out of New York for a job. And now I can't see him anymore.
However, we speak every day. I am curious to know who else he does that with, but there's no way to tell. Regardless, I feel special, and I treasure our correspondence even though sometimes it just includes "hey whats up" "nothing" "k". It's just nice to know you're being thought of sometimes. That's it, isn't it? You want to be on someone's mind. You want to be thought of. In his drunken stupor last night, he told me I had been thought of (over the day) "more than I'll ever know" which to me was kind of a loaded sentence...
Last night I also discovered he is really self-deprecating. He claims to be really open about it, but last time I had really seen him upset like that. It kind of scared me, but was also kind of endearing. I wish I could have opened up to him more, or really been there to talk him through this, but I wasn't. I can't. And for now, I'll just have to be there for him on the phone.
It's difficult to know where to go from here. I'm hoping my only option is "closer"...
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Episode 7: Living in Oblivion
I met a boy who I am attracted to. I’m a firm believer that at first meeting, or even first glance, you can tell if you have sexual chemistry with someone. And I’m not one to really mix friends and fuck, which is something I’ve been clear about from the beginning. But I can’t read this guy, and although he could be a fuck, I’m unsure whether or not he wants to be “just friends.” I think I’ve been pretty forward thus far, but he’s been sending me seriously mixed messages, and I don’t know what to expect anymore.
I suppose I’m thinking about it too much. To a certain degree, I should let things happen naturally, but I’m not really a believer in that. I’m more of a pusher… I’m constantly working to get what I want, and if a boy is what I want, it’s what I’ll get.
The first time I hugged him, it was insincere. Awkward almost. He’s not a touchy feelie person. But the other night, as we said our goodbyes, his hug was different. It had meaning to it... less "I'm hugging you because it's the right thing to do now," more "I'm hugging you because you're amazing."
I honestly want to tell him what I think of him: How I find him terrifyingly charming even though he is tragically socially awkward in large group situations. How when he smiles, I can't help but smile; his toothy grin makes all things right. When he smiles, I just want him to hold me. I want to be the reason that smile exists. I want that smile to be for me. I adore how he seems wise beyond his years; how well-read and articulate he speaks. How he doesn't seem to care what I think of him at all. He blows my mind with the amount of kindness he shows towards others. His loyalty to his friends is inspiring. His honesty and openness make me feel like I'm not the only one who feels the way I do sometimes.
I suppose this is a certain level of infatuation that I am not comfortable with. He kind of takes me to a place that was once familiar, but is no longer a part of my life. I know for a fact he does not feel the same way, but I know he cares for me, which is what's important at this point in my life. I would rather have a strong group of talented, loving friends than a gorgeous fuck any day.
I suppose I’m thinking about it too much. To a certain degree, I should let things happen naturally, but I’m not really a believer in that. I’m more of a pusher… I’m constantly working to get what I want, and if a boy is what I want, it’s what I’ll get.
The first time I hugged him, it was insincere. Awkward almost. He’s not a touchy feelie person. But the other night, as we said our goodbyes, his hug was different. It had meaning to it... less "I'm hugging you because it's the right thing to do now," more "I'm hugging you because you're amazing."
I honestly want to tell him what I think of him: How I find him terrifyingly charming even though he is tragically socially awkward in large group situations. How when he smiles, I can't help but smile; his toothy grin makes all things right. When he smiles, I just want him to hold me. I want to be the reason that smile exists. I want that smile to be for me. I adore how he seems wise beyond his years; how well-read and articulate he speaks. How he doesn't seem to care what I think of him at all. He blows my mind with the amount of kindness he shows towards others. His loyalty to his friends is inspiring. His honesty and openness make me feel like I'm not the only one who feels the way I do sometimes.
I suppose this is a certain level of infatuation that I am not comfortable with. He kind of takes me to a place that was once familiar, but is no longer a part of my life. I know for a fact he does not feel the same way, but I know he cares for me, which is what's important at this point in my life. I would rather have a strong group of talented, loving friends than a gorgeous fuck any day.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Episode 6: Sexual Harassment in the Office
Lately, I've been a little sexually harassed in my work environment. I'm sure it alarms most readers to hear that, but honestly it was the classic situation: Early on I allowed myself to be harassed because I thought it would raise my value to my employer. However, it soon accelerated, and I suppose I gave in because of my fear of being fired.
But it might be more than it, let's break it down:
The aforementioned "Boss" is actually my Boss's Boss. (From now on, we'll call my Boss's Boss "The Boss" and my Boss "Julian.") The Boss is someone I really respect as an artist. I decided to work for him because of that. Julian, who is my direct boss, is his assistant. Quite frankly, I could do without working for Julian (he's a bit of a nut sometimes) but I've honestly worked with more difficult people, so whatever. Anywho, I started working for The Boss because of what he does. He has an entire office dedicated to making his work happen; another example of an office like this would be like Steven Spielburg's company or something: people want to work for him because he's Steven Spielburg.
So I've been working for The Boss for awhile now, and the other day it was my duty to bring him into a meeting. I waited as he said goodbye to his girlfriend, and walked him into the building. We stepped into a mirrored elevator, and he turned and smiled at me.
"You have lovely breasts." The Boss said. "May I stare at them in the mirror?"
Now The Boss is an odd guy, I won't lie. But what artist really isn't? Creative minds are always a bit weird, and generally socially awkward.
"Sure." I smiled. No harm in staring at my breasts.
He touched me between the shoulderblades: "They don't hurt your back?"
Without missing a beat, I replied "Nah. I've had them for awhile." I'm hilarious, I know.
Then we exited the elevator and walked into the meeting where we met up with Julian. Things were as usual.
Today things got weirder. The Boss was in a really odd mood for most of the day (grumpy and tired.) Today was a day full of things he doesn't like to do, and I'm sure if he could, he'd pay someone else to do it, but would kill you if you did it wrong. (Again, artists = weird excentrics.) Anywho, day becomes night, and I call The Boss a limo to go home, which is a standard practice in my field. I wait at the front door and hold it open for him, he stops and smiles at me (the first smile I've seen today.)
"May I punch your breasts?" He asks.
What?
"Uh. I guess?"
He punches my right boob three times. Like a punching bag.
I stop him. "Get in the car..." I shoo him off. Julian appears soon after, following The Boss into the limo.
Had Julian seen the transaction that had just taken place, it is guaranteed I'd be fired.
---
I admit, the line has been crossed, and I'm partially responsible. However, did my first action sanction the second, and if so, should I blame myself, or the fact that I value developing a personal relationship with The Boss above my job and my dignity. I am by no means interested in him sexually, and his fascination with me is purely about my amazing breasts. (Sure, they're awesome.)
It's just a weird situation to be in. I get to be alone with an artist that people would kill to have a conversation with. Instead, all he sees is my breasts and not my mind. Secretly, I prayed to be noticed, but not like this.
We'll see where this goes.
But it might be more than it, let's break it down:
The aforementioned "Boss" is actually my Boss's Boss. (From now on, we'll call my Boss's Boss "The Boss" and my Boss "Julian.") The Boss is someone I really respect as an artist. I decided to work for him because of that. Julian, who is my direct boss, is his assistant. Quite frankly, I could do without working for Julian (he's a bit of a nut sometimes) but I've honestly worked with more difficult people, so whatever. Anywho, I started working for The Boss because of what he does. He has an entire office dedicated to making his work happen; another example of an office like this would be like Steven Spielburg's company or something: people want to work for him because he's Steven Spielburg.
So I've been working for The Boss for awhile now, and the other day it was my duty to bring him into a meeting. I waited as he said goodbye to his girlfriend, and walked him into the building. We stepped into a mirrored elevator, and he turned and smiled at me.
"You have lovely breasts." The Boss said. "May I stare at them in the mirror?"
Now The Boss is an odd guy, I won't lie. But what artist really isn't? Creative minds are always a bit weird, and generally socially awkward.
"Sure." I smiled. No harm in staring at my breasts.
He touched me between the shoulderblades: "They don't hurt your back?"
Without missing a beat, I replied "Nah. I've had them for awhile." I'm hilarious, I know.
Then we exited the elevator and walked into the meeting where we met up with Julian. Things were as usual.
Today things got weirder. The Boss was in a really odd mood for most of the day (grumpy and tired.) Today was a day full of things he doesn't like to do, and I'm sure if he could, he'd pay someone else to do it, but would kill you if you did it wrong. (Again, artists = weird excentrics.) Anywho, day becomes night, and I call The Boss a limo to go home, which is a standard practice in my field. I wait at the front door and hold it open for him, he stops and smiles at me (the first smile I've seen today.)
"May I punch your breasts?" He asks.
What?
"Uh. I guess?"
He punches my right boob three times. Like a punching bag.
I stop him. "Get in the car..." I shoo him off. Julian appears soon after, following The Boss into the limo.
Had Julian seen the transaction that had just taken place, it is guaranteed I'd be fired.
I admit, the line has been crossed, and I'm partially responsible. However, did my first action sanction the second, and if so, should I blame myself, or the fact that I value developing a personal relationship with The Boss above my job and my dignity. I am by no means interested in him sexually, and his fascination with me is purely about my amazing breasts. (Sure, they're awesome.)
It's just a weird situation to be in. I get to be alone with an artist that people would kill to have a conversation with. Instead, all he sees is my breasts and not my mind. Secretly, I prayed to be noticed, but not like this.
We'll see where this goes.
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