home | | | | | |archive | | | | | |profile | | | | | |notes | | | | | |previous | | | | | |next

dying a death a minute

One of the saucey receptionistas invited me out for lunch two days after the previous entry. I usually eat lunch alone, so the whole experience was both unnerving and wonderful. I kick myself now for being so vague and evasive whenever she asked me questions about myself. And they were these really impossible questions like, "How old are you?" and "What do you do in your spare time?" It was almost as bad as when I was interrogated by the police. Except the detectives weren't as pretty as the young woman sitting across from me at lunch Wednesday. And there was bacon in my clam chowder. There's nothing more disturbing than tasting bacon when you least expect it. So, I'm sitting there eating my clam chowder and wondering how bacon got in my mouth while this beautiful woman asks me really intense personal questions like, "What did you do for Thanksgiving?" But, overall, I really enjoyed it (her company, not the bacon in my clam chowder).

And then, on Friday, she invited me to join her and some others for dinner after work. This was early in the morning when she invited me, so I had all day to turn the offer over and over in my mind and overthink it and question her motives. I wondered if she was really interested in me or if someone had told her something about me. As the day progressed, the receptionists invited more and more people to join us--some of these were people I didn't really know. And some were persons I usually refuse to talk to. Finally, I had a minor anxiety attack and left the office without telling the ladies anything, then felt horrible about it for the rest of the night. But now I am confident I can make amends on Monday, and all will be forgiven (though unlikely forgotten). Still I fear an irreversible shift in their attitude toward me--or away from me. I swear, my existence is a series of missed or squandered opportunities. And the lessons never stick.

previous | next