How I Met Your Mother
First, go here and see what Vicki has to say about how we met. Then come back and see what I have to add.
First, when we first met ...
Well, I had to metaphorically gnaw my own arm off.
See, D___ intro'd us, as my lovely has said above, and I was pained, pained, pained.
I was SNARED, I tellya, SNARED by Vicki's eyes. You can't tell from the pictures I and she have posted, but those eyes are electric. Whether their natural pale blue or flushed with a caught-by-the-sun cut-glass greenish tint, Vicki's eyes are Meg Foster magnetic.
So me being me (and being in a relationship at the time, and being deathly afraid of hurting someone with awkwardness and therefore closed to the idea of workplace romances), I said a mental Oh shit! and concentrated on NOT looking at her eyes. Problem is--or problems were, I always make a habit of making firm eye contact with people ... and hell; the rest of Vicki was and is pretty damned alluring, too.
Then she was transferred out and I didn't have to be as friendlyasimpartiallyhelpfulandfriendlydammitdammitdammit as I was to everyone else without betraying my attraction to her.
Until I went on a union excursion out to the Allentown office. Basically, it was a "Really, we HAVEN'T forgotten about you guys out here in the Office in the Sticks--okay; maybe we DID, but we're trying to make up for it ..." kind of visit.
... and then those EYES popped up. Oy. And I even went outside and smoked ... as she was. Oy. Oh, the pain.
But then things subsided.
Then she came BACK. And she started having problems. Problems which needed union attention. And she was an employee, which meant that I was bound by not only the rules but moreso by my ironclad senses of justice and duty to do the right thing to help her. And help her I did. Did a good job. Even despite overwhelming temptation--like when she, frustrated by the aforementioned problems (like Human Resources screwing her out of her rightful pay) and REALLY frustrated, hurt, worried, about certain home/family issues, burst into tears as she stood by me in the office .. with no one around. As friendly as we had gotten, and as demonstrative and open as I am, I would have hugged her.
But the attraction was there, standing foursquare in the way.
So I firmly grasped her hand and said all the necessary soothing words. And that's all I could allow myself to do.
Then. Two months or so later. February. I was just out of a relationship which, despite troubles and hurdles, had seemed promising. And Vicki was detailed into a floor supervisor-type job in a new unit. Well, I take a deep and vested interest in new units, new managers I can cultivate, new people upon whom I can impress the need for/the good of/the success and caring of the union.
And her temporarily-detailed manager was (and is) a really cool guy; funny as hell. So I was spending a lot of time over there.
By her.
And those eyes.
And that smile.
But okay. I am a paragon of self-restraint.
That is, a control freakazoid.
... until she started dropping hints.
LOTS of hints.
Like the Sadie Hawkins bit she referenced in her post. (Hey, I thought I did a pretty okay job of charmingly weaseling out of the implication.
What? Leave me with my delusions, dammit.)
But the one which killed me ...
In joking with her and her manager, we got to talking of the somewhat-lacking personal hygiene of some of our co-workers. Specifically, their bathroom habits. And the non-flushers.
I pointed out that it was foolish to have sinks outside the stalls--after all, I said, if you've somehow soiled yourself by touching your naughty bits (let alone by touching your own night soil), you're just going to leave germs and crud all over your fly, waistband, shirttail, et cetera when you re-trow and tuck.
So what I do, I said, is this--miming myself walking from stall to sink with pants bunched around my ankles.
Her manager groaned and said how he absolutely had NOT needed the mental image of your ass hanging out.
Then.
Oh, then.
Then Vicki said, "Well, it's not so bad. I mean," she said, turning to me, "it's not as if you're someone who doesn't have a chance."
And the eyes flashed.
And I can tell you exactly the words which went through my mind.
Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit ...
For the rest of the day.
Then I went off to Washington for the entire next week. But after I got home on Friday, I went in to work (when I didn't have to; legislative work and travel had already accounted for my entire day).
Sat down with Vicki. Told her I wasn't as blind nor as dense as I had been purposely acting, but that I was, as noted, deathly averse to opening up the awkward possibilities of a workplace relationship.
And she set my mind at ease.
And you simply have NO idea how happy I am that she did that ...
First, when we first met ...
Well, I had to metaphorically gnaw my own arm off.
See, D___ intro'd us, as my lovely has said above, and I was pained, pained, pained.
I was SNARED, I tellya, SNARED by Vicki's eyes. You can't tell from the pictures I and she have posted, but those eyes are electric. Whether their natural pale blue or flushed with a caught-by-the-sun cut-glass greenish tint, Vicki's eyes are Meg Foster magnetic.
So me being me (and being in a relationship at the time, and being deathly afraid of hurting someone with awkwardness and therefore closed to the idea of workplace romances), I said a mental Oh shit! and concentrated on NOT looking at her eyes. Problem is--or problems were, I always make a habit of making firm eye contact with people ... and hell; the rest of Vicki was and is pretty damned alluring, too.
Then she was transferred out and I didn't have to be as friendlyasimpartiallyhelpfulandfriendlydammitdammitdammit as I was to everyone else without betraying my attraction to her.
Until I went on a union excursion out to the Allentown office. Basically, it was a "Really, we HAVEN'T forgotten about you guys out here in the Office in the Sticks--okay; maybe we DID, but we're trying to make up for it ..." kind of visit.
... and then those EYES popped up. Oy. And I even went outside and smoked ... as she was. Oy. Oh, the pain.
But then things subsided.
Then she came BACK. And she started having problems. Problems which needed union attention. And she was an employee, which meant that I was bound by not only the rules but moreso by my ironclad senses of justice and duty to do the right thing to help her. And help her I did. Did a good job. Even despite overwhelming temptation--like when she, frustrated by the aforementioned problems (like Human Resources screwing her out of her rightful pay) and REALLY frustrated, hurt, worried, about certain home/family issues, burst into tears as she stood by me in the office .. with no one around. As friendly as we had gotten, and as demonstrative and open as I am, I would have hugged her.
But the attraction was there, standing foursquare in the way.
So I firmly grasped her hand and said all the necessary soothing words. And that's all I could allow myself to do.
Then. Two months or so later. February. I was just out of a relationship which, despite troubles and hurdles, had seemed promising. And Vicki was detailed into a floor supervisor-type job in a new unit. Well, I take a deep and vested interest in new units, new managers I can cultivate, new people upon whom I can impress the need for/the good of/the success and caring of the union.
And her temporarily-detailed manager was (and is) a really cool guy; funny as hell. So I was spending a lot of time over there.
By her.
And those eyes.
And that smile.
But okay. I am a paragon of self-restraint.
That is, a control freakazoid.
... until she started dropping hints.
LOTS of hints.
Like the Sadie Hawkins bit she referenced in her post. (Hey, I thought I did a pretty okay job of charmingly weaseling out of the implication.
What? Leave me with my delusions, dammit.)
But the one which killed me ...
In joking with her and her manager, we got to talking of the somewhat-lacking personal hygiene of some of our co-workers. Specifically, their bathroom habits. And the non-flushers.
I pointed out that it was foolish to have sinks outside the stalls--after all, I said, if you've somehow soiled yourself by touching your naughty bits (let alone by touching your own night soil), you're just going to leave germs and crud all over your fly, waistband, shirttail, et cetera when you re-trow and tuck.
So what I do, I said, is this--miming myself walking from stall to sink with pants bunched around my ankles.
Her manager groaned and said how he absolutely had NOT needed the mental image of your ass hanging out.
Then.
Oh, then.
Then Vicki said, "Well, it's not so bad. I mean," she said, turning to me, "it's not as if you're someone who doesn't have a chance."
And the eyes flashed.
And I can tell you exactly the words which went through my mind.
Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit ...
For the rest of the day.
Then I went off to Washington for the entire next week. But after I got home on Friday, I went in to work (when I didn't have to; legislative work and travel had already accounted for my entire day).
Sat down with Vicki. Told her I wasn't as blind nor as dense as I had been purposely acting, but that I was, as noted, deathly averse to opening up the awkward possibilities of a workplace relationship.
And she set my mind at ease.
And you simply have NO idea how happy I am that she did that ...