My new boss had a VIP box at the Redskins Stadium and had invited me to a game. I didn't (and still don't) care about football, but I did know this was an opportunity not to pass up. A box at a football stadium is kind of like being in someone's house with just the living room, dining room, and kitchen part. Except you don't know them, or the people in the house.
I met and was immediately smitten with Derek. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. We chatted and flirted a bit at the game and a few weeks later he stopped by the office. When he needed something he would always ask to speak to me and of course I was more than willing to help. On Valentine's Day when he asked what I was doing I replied, "Nothing." The truth was that I was actually still sort of seeing that "nice guy," and I did have plans, but I would worry about that later if Derek was hinting at something. He didn't ask.
When I switched jobs again, Derek tracked me down and continued to send me business. This is when we finally decided to go out. I fretted on what to wear. On our first date (which he picked me up in his BMW) he did confess that he had meant to ask me out for Valentine's Day but chickened out at the last moment. (Oh, and for the record, I finally stopped seeing "nice guy" by this point and I will neither confirm nor deny for how long I actually saw him, but he was absolutely lovely and I wish him nothing but love, happiness and success.) Now where was I? Oh yes. In the BMW. Date One, not much to tell.
Date Two, he met me at my office. Embarrassing start when two of my co-workers were spying from an upstairs window making a ton of racket. He called me out on it, and I claimed to have no idea what was going on. Do you know what else is awkward? When you go to the Japanese steakhouse with a guy you are trying to impress and you are at a table with people you don't know and it's suddenly somebody's birthday and you have to sing, and you are mortified because you don't even sing Happy Birthday well, so you lip-sync because it would be rude to the Birthday person to not wish them a good year and just when you think you are in the clear, the Chef starts throwing pieces of food at you because for some reason the Chef's think you like it even though everybody really hates that part, so there you are with your mouth hanging open desperately trying to catch flying pieces of shrimp and you know it's going to inevitably bounce off your face, which is already burning red from the singing debacle, and now it's going to have a huge grease spot as well if you're lucky because the alternative is that it's going to get stuck in your eye because there is no chance in hell you are ever going to gracefully catch the damn thing in your mouth, but the chef is going to keep saying "almost, almost" and throwing more and more pieces to further the spectacle you're making of yourself and just...don't go to the Japanese Steakhouse on a date...and maybe not ever.
We finally left there and somehow ended up at my elementary school playground. It was all very romantic and terribly cliche at the same time. Under the stars and leaning against some jungle gym apparatus, I finally got to know Derek a little better.** He had muscles too you know.
I may have come off cold after that or he may have been deterred by my living two hours away, but nothing happened. My favorite movie
Lesson Learned? Don't date people you do business with.
**PG guys! This isn't that sort of a blog! What kind of girl do you think I am?!