“Girls Night Out or Girls Gone Wild?” was the question I was trying to answer this Saturday night with WAF. We’d been planning a staycation for this weekend because we both needed to let out some steam. To get the best bang for our buck, we booked one night at a hostel and planned to start the weekend off right, with shopping and cocktails, followed by pre-drinking at a lounge and ending the night at a club.
At noon on Friday, we were just finalizing our plans via a flurry of excited emails when I received an email from LawyerMan asking if I still wanted to work for him as a legal assistant at his firm. I hadn’t heard from him since the interview, where he had made it abundantly clear that I was grossly underqualified for the position. I had interpreted the lack of communication as “I am too busy to even email you to let you know that, like I said at the interview, I don’t want you,” and left it at that. When I read his email, a simple one-liner asking if I was still interested in the position, I jumped at the opportunity and immediately said yes. I asked him when he wanted me to start. He said Monday.
Keep in mind that not only was I currently working, but I was in a different city! What kind of employer emails you on Friday afternoon to tell you to come in on Monday? Did he think I’d been sitting on my ass, twiddling my thumbs for the entire four weeks since the interview?
But of course I said yes, because I was afraid he’d change his mind. After all, this was the sort of opportunity that could really help me with my career, even if the opportunity came with an inconsiderate boss.
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I miss the simpler days of affection, before pre-marital sex and cheating and Facebook statuses. When a boy who loved you would:
- Look for you at your favourite hiding spot when he couldn’t find you
- Always buy two of whatever he was getting so he could share with you: two ice cream cones, two cups of lemonade, two popsicles – although exceptions can be made (i.e. ONE large sundae)
- Share an umbrella with you in the rain
- Hold your gaze a second too long
- Tingle at the slightest touch of your skin
- Give you his mitts if you forgot yours
- Drape his blazer around you if you were cold
- Defend you in front of his friends
- Think about you before he fell asleep
- Think about you the moment he wakes up
- Make a big deal about meeting your parents
- Write you love letters with excellent penmanship, always more passionate on paper than in person
Maybe that’s why I love Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte – because the chick lit they write belong to an era when romance was more than roses on Valentine’s Day, when love was a commitment from a gentleman to a lady.
Do such gentlemen even exist anymore?
Today, I cooked naked.
Ok, probably not the best idea I’ve ever had. But it was hot in my apartment! Really hot! And I was hungry! Really hungry!
I’m sure this is the same dilemma our ancestors were faced with. Take the time to cloth oneself or club an unsuspecting animal to death? I went with the latter, I’m sure they did too. The apple doesn’t fall far from the evolutionary tree.
So now I can check off “cooking naked” from my list of life experiences. Unfortunately, it was never on my list to begin with.
What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done in the nude? In fact, it doesn’t even have to be crazy, I think anything done in the nude earns you automatic bragging rights. So brag away, my friends.
Whenever a guy comes on to me, the first thing I wonder is, “Does he have an Asian fetish?” Because there’s no faster way to feel creeped out than thinking that you might be a fetish.
I don’t really like brownies. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed a brownie from time to time, but in comparison to my general craving for chocolate, cookies, ice cream, and other forms of deliciousness, my preference for brownies ranks low. I think I even tried to like brownies at one point because so many girls who share my preference for other chocolatey goodness love brownies. But I am just not a brownies kind of girl.
Come to think of it, I’m not a huge ‘cake/cupcake girl’ either.
Originally, this post was supposed to be a list of evidence that a boy loves you, a la this but when I actually sat down to write it, I couldn’t. The only experience I could draw on was MFL, but I couldn’t bear to think about the way MFL loved me, much less write down a concrete list of evidence. I guess I’m not as over him as I’d like to believe.
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