Friday brought a confluence of circumstances causing me to run around like a whirling dervish.
In the midst of my running (well, walking briskly - always practice work safety boys and girls!), down a hallway to a meeting whom did I see but Boots. No, not my cat and ooh... first time I've thought of my little eight pound feline of terror and the last person in my life with the same moniker. I am so sorry pretty kitty. If it's any consolation, I didn't name you. But I digress...
So, there in the hall, staring me in the face; eager, surprised look and big grin is Boots. The man I dated on and off from (20) through (23).
"Hey," I said eager to make this a drive by, I had places to go and, these last few years, when running into Boots he seems a little too keen for my liking. Sure enough he reaches out and touches my arm, "Great to see you! What are you up to? What are you doing here?" and like that I am obligated to stay and chat for a few despite the lack of stimulating topics.
In short order, it's discerned that he's here for a meeting which will most likely bring future run ins, he truly hasn't changed in the past ten years, he's very single, and I'm desperately wishing for my purse so I can foist a breath mint on him. When did his oral care go hurtling down the slope of offensive?
No escape. Not even a pretend pressing matter ambling down the hall. Please work cell phone Gods, please make someone call with a question no matter how asinine. No, you must endure this man as a lesson in better future decision making.
Where Boots was concerned, bad decision making was in spades! Start with the age difference - he's (13) years older. Marriages, by the time we started up (sobering, he was the same age I am now), he'd racked up (2) with (2) corresponding divorces (he has stopped at that number). Predilections - he has many. There was the Matchbox / Hot Wheels and robot collection that Toys R Us would envy, the seeming obsession with, "On the Road," and the life and times of everyone in said story. Oh, and lest we not forget, his little rope, stocking and stiletto fetish. You think I can be a doormat now? That has nothing on the (20) year old me! Besides, at that age I had a higher threshold for bullshit, and a stronger attraction to James Spader whom Boots is a dead ringer for. Oh Steph you bad, bad boy. Plus he orchestrated everything nicely with candles, music with a strong beat that pulsed through you, excellent cologne, etc. Very commanding, an attack on your senses. It had its moments.
In no time at all, I learn that he is very single. And interested if I am the same and do I still play dress up. Where do I live (and he is probing for landmarks by my home - no visitors!)? The most important lesson that may have finally sunk in? Dating anyone who works in the same place that you do (no matter how big) is a very bad idea, for years to come.
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Wow, hard to believe that he was the age we are now. I think that makes me feel a little old. He seemed *so* much older at the time. I guess that's how 20 year olds would look at us? Eek!
ReplyDeleteI know! I remember viewing him as suave, sophisticated, dare I say urbane? Then I look at my (23) year old and (26) year old puppy-like employees and wonder what screw he was missing that we had a relationship! And why his parents (such nice people) didn't say something. I take that back... his Dad asked,"Exactly how old is she?" The year of the thigh high boots and Hello Kitty finger puppets at xmas.
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