The Pussy Strikes Back

I had a shitty morning. Between the pile of work at the office and the two consecutive cyber-blows to my ego and the dredges of a cold I picked up (probably from having too much fun), I was depressed. I was wallowing in some serious No-One-Will-Ever-Love-Me-Again territory.

I left the office at around 1:30 to take a head-clearing walk and get some lunch. I listened to agressive music and tried to turn my inward anger outward. This is how it goes. Reciprocation is one of the trickiest aspects of dating, to say nothing of relationships. I had to steel myself and keep going.

Only today, I wanted fate to be a little kind to me. All morning, I prayed I would not run into Pussy Galore and I continued the prayer while walking. I didn't want any more reminders of how the male sex was Just Not That Into Me. Seeing PG on a day like today would be a low blow. Would fate be that mean?

Cue the terrible Alanis Morrisette song.

I saw PG several minutes later as I was crossing the street to go back into the building where we work. He was walking two feet ahead of me. I could do nothing but smile and think,

Oh, it's going to be one of those days.

Part of me hoped he'd keep walking, remember he needed to get something from the deli or drugstore down the street, but no. He was walking into the building, and I was following. I could have walked around the block or delayed my own entrance to insure we were on different elevators, but I decided to dive right in to the social discomfort that awaited me. In fact, I would welcome it.

When I got in the elevator, I saw a coworker and smiled at her, but not before glancing at Pussy and giving him the briefest little half-smile. Then I babbled incessantly to the coworker in what I hoped was a funny and engaging and not psychotic way. She got off the elevator and then it was just me and PG and Some Woman.

"Are you getting a late lunch?"

I turned around.

"What?"

Pussy was talking to me.

The following is the conversation that we had in the ensuing eight-to-ten second elevator ride. The spoken conversation is in quotation marks. The unspoken conversation is in bracketed italics.

PG: "You getting a late lunch?"
[Are you pissed off because I never got in touch to reschedule the date?]

ME: "Yeah... well, I usually like to get lunch at around this time. Maybe a little earlier."
[I was... but hey, the phone works both ways and I never got in touch, either. Maybe it's even better than the date never happened because we work together and you're probably a little too young for me anyway.]

PG: "It's rare that I even go out for lunch. I get so busy."
[I thought you'd never want to talk to me after that whole incident.}

ME: "Really? I'm busy, too, but I need to run out at least for a few minutes every day."
[I thought I wouldn't either, but you are so cute and whatever reason our date never happened, I know you didn't mean any harm.]

PG: "Yeah, today I actually had some time."
[Of course I didn't. But are you sure this awkward conversation is better than the awkward silences?]

ME: "I know, it gets so hectic sometimes, I have to force myself to leave my desk."
[I'm sure. This is way better.]

When I got back to my desk, I sent PG a cute little email about how we're both on similar elevator schedules again and he replied and we wrote back and forth about the most banal things, but it didn't even matter. His emails made me smile. I can't help think that we still have a spark, even though we are no longer tarted up and drunk at a corporate Christmas party.

I know he's too young for me (five years my junior) and that if he asked me out again (which he wouldn't), I should say no because he had his chance with me and he blew it and needs to respect me more than that... Oh, but he is so adorable that if he ever did ask me out again (which he won't), apart from requesting a breathalizer test, I'd probably melt into a happy puddle and faux-reluctantly say yes.

Not that I am imagining that this is an even vaguely possible scenario. Oh, no. Never.