Surely the title says it all?
I’m sat here in bed, two days on from kissing my colleague goodbye outside the restaurant we had just brunched in, with my head pounding like hell, fighting the waves of nausea washing over me and – quite frankly – dying to get home to my bed to rest, recover, and more importantly, process what the hell had happened the night before.
How on earth did I arrive at this point?
I strongly believe that there are some things that should never be tampered with by sex. I mean, not many. The housemate thing can happen, for example, if handled well. However, the no sex zone definitely applies to a) the closest, closest friends, and b) the only other person in the same situation as you when you are in an abnormal situation (trust me, you don’t want to risk ruining that connection).
And c) colleagues. Definitely colleagues. Unless you work in a huge office, on different floors or far apart with not much actual contact day to day – in that case, maybe work is a good place to meet men. And I’m not entirely sure ‘other people in the work place you barely know’ are considered colleagues. I mean the ones you work closely with, the ones that have the potential to alter your reputation, ruin your air of professionalism, or just mess things up.
Flashback to Friday, 6pm. Slightly saturated from the two large glasses of wine I had drank at lunch time, and
irrationally rationally annoyed at having my plans cancelled last minute by D, I am typing at my desk, wandering what to do with the Friday night looming ahead of me. H is loitering around – I’m sure he should have left an hour ago, he’s not doing much work – ‘L – want to go for a drink?’.
Oh. Um. Well, yeah. Why on earth not? It’s almost sacrilege to simply go home on a Friday night. But…it is not a normal thing for H and I to go for a drink, alone, after work.
It is all D’s fault, of course. If he hadn’t made me so angry, I would have never been free to go. I was though, and as I responded with an overly casual, ‘Yes, ok – we may as well?’, part of me thought: am I going to end up in H’s bed tonight? Don’t let it happen..
Because it wasn’t a totally absurd thought. I’m pretty sure he almost kissed me at the Christmas party last year. On the few work social events we have had (it is even less that I bother to go to), he is always just a little bit..noticeably close. And I don’t mind that..
But tonight, it was just going to be him, alcohol and a rather horny me. Potentially a dangerous recipe.
I did not know whether I was misreading the situation, though. The only thing I was sure of was that I was absolutely not going to make any kind of move or gesture or hint of anything sexual. Barely even flirted. Spoke about other guys (mistake: this was a colleague and I was giving away too much personal information), displayed some unattractive clumsiness, invited another friend along.
Nothing worked. I didn’t make a move, and he didn’t quite make a move. He made the odd overly suggestive comment, which I just continued to brush aside, although eventually I couldn’t help becoming a little flirtatious. I gradually became more and more drunk, told him things I would never tell colleagues *cringing*, or even the majority of my friends. He pretty much now knows everything about me.
We bar hopped for a while and suddenly he kissed me, although I’m not quite sure how exactly that happened. It just…seemed to be happening. Next thing I know, he is asking me if I want to go to his and ‘watch some cricket with him’. Odd euphemism. But I’m agreeing. And like I said, I am not surprised at this.
I suppose there was always a little hint of something there. I always knew that if we went out alone, this was the way the night would end up – otherwise I wouldn’t have been a tiny bit apprehensive about agreeing to go and wouldn’t have tried to convince my friend to join us. I didn’t do those things because I didn’t want it to happen – it was because I wasn’t sure what the consequences of this happening would be…
My mind is hazy but I think we had quite a good night. Waking up entangled with H was not a terrible thing (the terrible thing was my hangover), and he was quite the gent. The thing is that it is never awkward in the morning because you are still in the situation.
H suggested brunch, so we went for a walk and then to a restaurant that was on my way home. I really was trying to fight the nausea and could barely eat, so I felt terrible when I came back from the bathrooms and saw him settling the bill. He was on quite good form, yet I could barely concentrate on anything other than not throwing up enough to string one sentence together. I was not good company.
He didn’t seem to mind, though. He carefully avoided asking about my plans for the rest of the day because he knew I had a date….and yet that is the first thing he asked me about on Monday when I saw him at work. I answered by talking about the show we had seen, and not the guy himself.
But what now? What is this? Does he think it’s now a thing? That it’s guaranteed to happen again? Is it? Does he even want it to? Do I want it to? Is he cringing in horror wishing it hadn’t happened?
I get the impression he isn’t, that he’s further towards the wanting it to happen again end of the scale. But I don’t know that. And I am giving nothing away. We have got through two days at work, but we only really have a chance to speak towards the end of the day when most other people go home. And even then, there are still plenty of ears about..
I feel as though it’s slightly awkward; but as though he’s waiting for me to give him a signal that it’s ok to make a move. But I am…..unsure and therefore unable to give any signal other than back off signals. I don’t want him to back off though, and if he did make a move…I would probably respond.
The trouble is, if he keeps waiting for me and I keep up this reluctance to give any hint, well.. it’ll soon turn into nothing. And I’m not sure that’s what I want.
So what do I do?
It would be totally and utterly catastrophic if anybody in the office found out about this..
Oh well. At least I’m leaving soon..