The time has come to ‘fess up and reveal my other heart’s desire. And it’s not chocolate. Or even cheese. It’s a living, breathing hot piece of ass. To whom I am apparently utterly invisible.
I’m going to call him TC because that’s what I call him in Real Life as well – lucky you, being let in on my Super Cool Secret Code. Contrary to the subject of this post, he’s not called Top Cat – then he’d be even cooler…
Anyway, TC and I go waaaaaaaaay back. He’s now been indifferent to me for over 2 years. Yes – even pre Break Up Mks I and II. During both Break Ups he was my barometer of misery – if I looked at him and thought “you mean nothing to me, I just want Dave” I knew I was having a Very Bad Day. Because I see him every day. Because we work together. Just like Dave and I do. Never let it be said that I learn from my mistakes. At any time, he’s never more than about 10 feet away. Annoyingly, I sit with my back to him which dramatically curtails the amount of time I can spend gawping at him. But I still manage pretty well.
Alas, as already mentioned, he has zero interest in me. Less than zero. His interest is in deficit. I actually think initially this was part of the allure. Now it’s just a daily frustration. I mean, bear in mind I work in an environment that is around 80% male. come to think of it, he sits in a row of 10 desks with 10 desks behind him and there is only 1 girl amidst those 20 seats. And she’s what you’d call bookish. if you were being kind. So even for sheer novelty value you might expect him to maybe pay some slight attention when I wander over. Nothing. I mean, I’m no supermodel but I look ok. You know?
My friends are (painfully – hahaha!) aware of my futile crush. One of them said the other day: we need to work out a way to get him to notice you.
I pointed out that in the last year or so i have:
1) Lost a stone (and i?wasn’t that big to start with)
2) Changed the colour of my hair from blonde highlights to all over dark brown?
3) Had a freakin’ nosejob
And still he remains indifferent. “if only I had big boobs” I quipped. I had HUGE boobs. Really. Some would say they define me. But anyway. My point is that, in spite of my best – heroic even – efforts, NOTHING.
Let me illustrate… So he’s a trader where I work (and so is almost comically mighty of brain) and I sort of troubleshoot for him and his team. I’m a lot lower down the food chain though. Anyway, his sidekick was having a problem with a trade and he called me over to try to work out why it wasn’t pricing correctly. Now, it’s pretty difficult for me to concentrate on anything when I’m standing near TC – one time he stood up and stretched, his shirt came out of his trousers, revealing about 3 inches of perfect midriff and I swear I nearly fainted – but when his sidekick started worrying about which curve the trade was pricing off, life lost all meaning. I was wearing a pretty slinky outfit that day – which TC had obviously failed to notice, as he does every day of his life – and said “Don’t ask me, everything I know about curves is in this dress”. I was hip-to-ear with TC at this point and not even a flicker crossed his face. What’s a girl to do?
I don’t hold myself up as some kind of irresistible supermodel, but he’s SO indifferent that I thought he must be in a deeply committed relationship, rendering all other girls invisible to his unroving eyes. But no. I was out for drinks last month with work and (oh happy day!) managed to stand next to him for about 15 mins, during which time someone asked him how things were going with his lovelife.
“Oh, I’ve been seeing this girl for a couple of months. Which is a record for me. usually that’s long enough for me to get married and divorced. It’s only a matter of time before she stops taking my calls. In fact, I texted her half an hour ago and she hasn’t replied – it’s all over!”
So a) I’m not invisible to him because of his deep and abiding love for another, I’m just invisible to him and b) why do women keep breaking up with him??? He is hot, clever and minted. And tall (tall is a big deal for me, I’m trying to cure myself of it). Maybe he has a micro-penis? I’ll settle for that, TC…
Now on the way to Mexico, I planned my flights so that I’d have a 10 hour stopover in New York. I know the city pretty well and have been shopping there twice a year since 2004 so was able to plan the whole thing like a military exercise. I hadn’t planned on throwing a hissy fit in Abercrombie and flinging an armful of clothes at one of their retarded topless assistants’ feet after they only had 2 tills available for 400 people but unexpected events like these make life more interesting. Anyway, I got around and checked in an extra 15kg of luggage on my onward flight to Mexico, representing an excellent day’s work. My wrist started to hurt a few days later, but it’s amazing how drinking a litre of tequila a day for 2 weeks can numb the pain. Anyway, it was still hurting 2 weeks after I got back, so I went to the doctor, who confirmed that i have DeQuervain’s Syndrome. Yes, I managed to give myself a shopping injury. Posh Spice doesn’t have to deal with this shit… Anyway, I’ve been having physio for about a month now and have had to wear a brace on my wrist. The brace has been quite the talking point. I was initially tempted to claim that I’d got it giving tramps handjobs for pocket change at the bus station, but have settled for confessing to the shameful truth: that my desire to consume outdid my physical abilities. Everywhere I go, people stop me and say “oh, what happened?” and I have to watch the pity on their faces turn to mirth. Sooooo, TC and I were more or less the last people on the trading floor one night about 10 days ago, so I went over to speak to him on a semi-tenuous pretext. Now I’m fairly expressive when I speak, so I made sure braced-hand was waving around a lot so he could ask the obvious question, I could ‘fess up, he would find me capricious and delightful and he’d take me shopping then propose. nothing. He barely looked up. This actually happens a lot. More times than I could count, I’ve gone over to speak to him, said his name (his actual name, not TC, god imagine…) and he’s just waved me away with a “talk to the hand” motion. I know. He DOES sound like a colossal prick and I shouldn’t fancy him. However, I am shallow enough to be swayed by good hair, brains and money and not let teeny things like inability to be a normal functional being stand in the way of an epic, all-encompassing crush. Normally, I write this stuff off as “well, he is pretty busy and important so I won’t take it personally. In this instance, trading had ended about 2 hours earlier so it wasn’t quite the same. Off I shuffled, dejected. But not beaten. Oh no. It took me mere moments to come up with a follow-up tenuous pretext (honestly, sometimes I’m like a dog with a bone…) and I went round again. This time I just about stopped short of waving my hand in his face, but only just. Still nothing. He has no interest whatsoever in speaking to me in any situation. He takes not being into me to a whole new level of indifference. But he’s so pretty that I’ll carry on looking and hoping…
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