It's In The Stars. Buffy Andrews
I’m talking complete strangers. It took me a while to get used to the friendliness, but I’m glad I moved here. It definitely beats my last job, which was writing articles for a news website. The only downside is the dry dating pool. I haven’t found a lot of guys I’m interested in – besides the hottie in advertising. Now he definitely has potential. The guy in the cubicle next to mine, not so much. In fact, Matt was annoying the crap out of me.
I was having a tough time concentrating, mostly because he was interviewing someone that was apparently hard of hearing. Matt’s voice boomed in my ear as he repeated each question at least three times.
I flashed him my mean face (lips pulled back, teeth clenched, eyes narrowed) and held up a note I’d scribbled on the back of a meeting agenda: Face to face????
But he just ignored me. I don’t know why he didn’t interview the woman in person – or at least go into one of the small conference rooms so the rest of us wouldn’t be subjected to his stellar interviewing skills.
I held up another sign: Lazy Ass!
He flashed me the finger.
I was trying my best to tune him out when Victoria, another reporter, walked up behind me. “So are you coming tonight?”
I jumped and turned around. “Jesus! You scared me.”
“Sorry. But I figured no one would get anything done until Matt the Mouth finished his interview.”
“I don’t know why he doesn’t take his sorry ass out of the newsroom and go to her house,” I said. “It’s taking him twice as long this way to get the information he needs.”
Victoria sipped her coffee. “So are you coming tonight?”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“So that means you are?”
I thought about my horoscope. It said to “catch up with friends” tonight. I remembered my new middle name is Dare and that I’m full of optimism and have to let go of my fears.
“Okay, I’m in. But I can’t stay out late. I have an early interview tomorrow.”
Matt hung up his phone and I overheard him tell Oyster Breath he was going to the woman’s house. Thank God! I hoped I’d be able to finish the damn story I’d been trying to finish for the last hour.
I was working on a story about a teen who suffered from anorexia. I had until this afternoon to send Oyster Breath my first draft. Whenever I’m assigned stories that deal with mental illness, it makes me twitchy because I’m aware I have my own issues. I’ve never had an eating disorder but I’ve battled OCD most of my life. It started when I was a kid. I remember the day as if it were a minute ago. Mom was chaperoning my fourth-grade class field trip to the National Museum of Natural History in Washington, D.C. I remember staring at the mummies in the Ancient Egypt exhibit and picturing my mom as a mummy. I became obsessed with losing her and convinced myself that if I did certain things, she’d never die. I know it sounds incredibly silly, but to a kid it made perfect sense. I believed that my behavior gave me control and didn’t realize until years later it was the other way around – my behavior was controlling me.
I still battle anxiety issues and have my share of quirks, but I have a better handle on it today. Mom is just as bad, she stresses over everything, even things she doesn’t have to worry about. So, maybe it’s part of my genetic makeup. No way would I wish it on anyone.
By the end of the day, I’d finished my first draft. Oyster Breath was talking with another reporter so I waited to update him before heading home to change into something more comfortable for the bar. Just like Horoscope said: It was a great day for a new beginning.
Friday, July 15
It’s time to do some soul searching. What are you looking for in a guy? What are your requirements for a happy relationship? Tonight: Curl up with a good book.
After going to happy hour last night and having way too much to drink, I pretty much fell into bed. I should know better than to drink more than two beers on a work night. But it was Thursday and we were all bitching about work and the beer went down easy. Too easy. At least when we go out I don’t have to drive because I live in the city, blocks from Joe’s Bar, our hangout. Victoria lives down the street from me so I always have a walking buddy. We live in brownstones that have been converted into apartments in a not-so-good section of town. I love the high ceilings and spacious rooms, except in the winter when I get hit with high heating bills.
Anyway, when I have too much to drink I usually have wild dreams. Most of the time I end up naked in public or I have that recurring nightmare of sitting down to take a test I haven’t prepared for. But last night, I dreamt I bumped into Hottie Advertising Guy in the girls’ bathroom at work. I opened the stall door and there he was, bare ass naked. So I went to the next stall and opened the door but he was there, too. Every stall I tried, he was in. My bladder was killing me because I had to pee so badly. Finally I couldn’t take the pain anymore; I had to relieve myself. So, I hopped up on the bathroom counter and peed in the sink. Not very lady like, I know, but when you have to go, you have to go. Suddenly, Hottie Advertising Guy walked out of the stall. Or rather, eight Hottie Advertising Guys walked out of eight stalls and they pointed at me and laughed. I lost my balance and my butt fell into the sink and that’s when I woke up and headed to the bathroom. I had to pee. For real. God! Where do these dreams come from?
I wondered what the dream meant. Maybe I was worried about embarrassing myself in front of him. I’ve worried about that sort of thing in the past. There are a lot of physical features I’d love to change. My lips are too thin, my ears too pointy and my toes, well, I don’t even want to go there with my toes. I wish I had prettier toes, like Victoria and Frankie and Jada. They wear open-toed shoes and sandals and their feet look so pretty with their toes polished. I have a hammer toe on my left foot and ever since a guy in high school mocked me in front of a group, I’ll never ever show my toes in public again.
While eating breakfast I thought about my horoscope. What am I looking for in a guy? I grabbed a pen and paper off the desk.
Definitely a sense of humor. Oh, and someone who is kind and generous. Definitely don’t want a cheapskate. Been there, done that. One guy I dated never ordered anything but water to drink when we went out to dinner.
“Do you realize,” he said one night, “That if you spend a dollar fifty on a soda twice a week that would be three dollars a week or one hundred and fifty-six dollars a year. In ten years, you’ll have spent $1,560. Now, if you put that money in the bank and leave it alone, it would accrue interest and you’d end up with a nice sum.”
“Seriously?” I’d said. “You’re not having a coke because you want to save a buck fifty?”
We didn’t go out again! So, yeah, no cheapskates allowed.
Honest and trustworthy are high on the list. And reliable. If a guy says he’s going to go with me to a function I know will be as boring as hell but I don’t have a choice, it’s not cool to back out an hour before the event. Yeah, Ryan. You’re the reason this made my list. And the reason I drank too much at the gallery opening and made an ass out of myself when I puked in the lobby. And the reason I stopped taking your calls. So there!
Sensitive. I want a guy who isn’t afraid to share what’s in his heart. Who doesn’t care if tears pool in his eyes when he’s touched by a story or movie or book. Who isn’t too manly to cry. In other words, I’m looking for a guy who feels and isn’t afraid to show it.
Clean, as in good hygiene. I hate even having to put this on my list, but some guys fall short in this department. Like this one guy I dated. He didn’t like flossing. Said it was unnecessary. Think again, tighty-whitie (yes, I’m serious. He wore little boy underwear that made his junk look a lot bigger than it was). I swear once during a kiss a piece of food that was stuck in his teeth fell into my mouth. It was so gross