Oh Friday, why can’t you ever just pass by without incident?
My coworkers, despite the fact that I am moving back to Victoria in three weeks (yup, 3 weeks) are still hell bent on “finding me a man”. (A goal they’ve had since I transferred to this office a year ago and they found out I was both single and straight. Apparently this combination is rare?)
Usually I find it amusing, but today it was downright hilarious. You know, if by hilarious I mean dreadfully uncomfortable. So very uncomfortable.
See, today, well, today I made the mistake of commenting on the attractiveness of a particular gentleman who works on our floor.
I knew it was a mistake before I even opened my mouth but there was no stopping the words as they tumbled out – something along the lines of “Giggidy Giggidy! I’d tap that fo’sho!”. The feeling of panic was instant and I stilled, caught in the metaphorical headlights of four happily settled women (the scariest breed). It was terrifying.
The moment was over as quickly as it happened, and though I still couldn’t shake the lingering dread, I thought I was home free. Perhaps they didn’t hear my grossly inappropriate comment? Maybe they missed the drool pooling at the side of my mouth? Or the hungry gleam in my eyes as I imagined him in his tighty whities? Impossibly, I was in the clear.
It turns out V, my most persistent coworker, knows this gentleman and, more importantly, knows that he is also single. (Can you see where this is going?)
After lunch, in the middle of my being very busy and important, I was ambushed by two very meddlesome women with a very uncomfortable man sandwiched between them.
“Oh! Well isn’t this a coincidence! Fancy finding Sarah here, at her desk where she sits from 8:30 to 4:45 every Monday through Friday. Small world! Sarah’s from BC, is 24, loves to bake and is single!” Pause so we could both awkwardly nod at each other without making eye contact. “So … would you like to impregnate her now? Or wait until Happy Hour?”
The poor guy was held in place by identical death grips on both arms preventing the escape he clearly wanted to make.
Me? I just smiled awkwardly, took frequent sips of water to avoid having to talk, and waited for the world to swallow me whole.
After nearly five minutes (yup, I timed it) of forced conversation my coworkers finally let the poor guy go.
In the future I’m sure Mr. Sexy will avoid my end of the office. So long Eye Candy. Self preservation, it’s a kicker.