I’m attracted to someone I’m working with. Again. The good news is that he doesn’t work for my company. The bad news is that he is a client, devastatingly handsome, witty and charming. And married. He is off limits. Completely.
And I’m in a committed relationship with Nathan so… there’s that wrinkle too.
So I find myself in the awkward position of having a school girl crush while attempting to put forth as professional of a front as I can muster. Do you know how hard it is to maintain a professional front when most of the communication is done (Often late at night!) via text? And did I mention how charming he is? Ahhh!!!!
Me: Will you do me a favor tomorrow? Please text me a pic of the front and back of (X) so I can get started.
Him: For you. I will.
What?! For me? He will? I just need a reference photo. And then it ends up feeling all intimate.
(He teased me about my car, which is fancy.)
Me: Life needs a few luxuries. I’ll let you ride in it sometime. You’ll wanna buckle up though.
Him: I’ll take you up on that… I like fast rides.
How am I supposed to respond to that???! I am TRYING very hard to keep things between the “safe” lines. So my response ignores his comment and references his project.
(In response to me asking if he was back in town because we needed to meet about the project.)
Me: Did you make it back?
Him: I did, but after today I think I’m running away again. ;-)
Me: Take me! This week has been hell. And it’s just Monday!
Him: Let’s go… quick trip to New Orleans… just long enough for Friday to get here… we can stay drunk till then.
Yes. I did instigate this time. Sigh. but I only replied with a smilie face. Being good is so hard!
The day after Example 3 we met for dinner and to review where we stood on the project. He had taken command and texted me a list of six VERY nice places to choose from after making it clear that he was buying.
I dressed in a v-neck floral wrap dress similar in cut to the one below, legs firm and tan from a recent trip to the beach. I arrived first, and sipped a water with lime while I waited. And then he was there. Tall, lean, a grin that stretches across his olive complexion revealing straight, white teeth.
We head to our table, one of those strange slide-in affairs. And I’m not my usual cool and collected self. I’m flustered. He senses this.
“I’m not going to bite. I promise,” he says.
Now… the Marian y’all know and love would have retorted, “Oh… well that’s a shame.”
But I didn’t. I just looked up at him, my eyes wide and unsure.
“It’s ok,” he said softly, “You can breathe.”
He smiled then and waited for me to take a breath. I did. And managed to shake away what felt like first date jitters. We talked of the project, personal stories, and dreams.
We never touched. Not once.
I must confess… I’m confused. Not by what I should or should not do. But by the mixed messages he sends.