Why I Love My Gay Boyfriend

by Sabrina Zollo

  Oompa Loompa chuckled, endeared by my impatience. “Well, one cannot put a timeline on such things.”

  I felt my resolute expression slide off my face. “You did. You said it would be two years.”

  “Well! That is a rough estimate. It depends.”

  “On what?” I asked, barely able to hide my frustration at his poor interpretation of a two year timeline.

  “On opportunity, on your progression,” he offered, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “The best person to talk to is Savannah. She has the most influence in these matters. Have you spoken to her about it?”

  I shook my head, feeling defeated. I had wholeheartedly and naively dedicated a year of my life to an empty promise. All I was left with was an ex-gay boyfriend; a disgusted and distrustful boss; a desperate crush cut short by harsh reality (and banishment to Japan); work colleagues that wholeheartedly hated me; and no friends. Well, I did have one friend left. But there are some things that even Jager can’t solve.

  Chapter 21: A Hasty Decision

  “Savannah, can I bother you for a moment?” I greeted Savannah, unannounced, at her door.

  Savannah looked up from her computer, irritated. “Can you set up a meeting with my admin? I think I have some time available early next week.”

  “No, this will only take a moment,” I entered her office, closed the door behind me and sat down. “I spoke to Oomp- I mean, Etienne, regarding New York and he told me to come see you.”

  “Veronica, please don’t waste my time repeating conversations. I told you that your visit to New York is delayed until further notice. I’m appalled that you would go over my head and speak to HR about it, like a petulant child.”

  “No, not my visit to New York, my transfer to New York,” I responded with a steady voice as I unabashedly looked back at her. “Etienne told me when I started that I could transfer to New York within two years.”

  Savannah laughed. “Well, that’s outrageous. I cannot believe that Etienne would even suggest that. It’s impossible for you to transfer to New York as an Assistant Manager. It would be years before we would even consider such a thing.”

  “Well then I quit,” I responded.

  Savannah looked momentarily surprised but swiftly recovered. “Quitting is a ridiculous negotiating tactic. Not to mention unprofessional. That’s quite enough.”

  “I’m serious, Savannah, I quit. Gisele is just not for me. Thank you but I want to pursue other career opportunities.”

  Savannah stubbornly remained disconcerted. “You’re upset and stressed right now so you don’t know what you’re talking about. Take a week off on my dime, come back rested, and then we’ll talk.”

  “OK, but I’m just going to come back after a week and quit.”

  “I think you will come to regret this hasty decision,” she assured me.

  With the luxury of not having to wake up to an alarm buzzer, I slept deeply and soundly, clocking an average of twelve hours every night. I discovered how little I could get done in a day. I was able to enjoy simple things like sunlight and soap operas. My bob had grown out to shoulder length and was getting scraggly so I had the dead ends trimmed off, not at Holt Renfrew, but at a reasonably-priced salon I found walking around my neighbourhood. I wanted to grow my hair long again. I returned several over-priced items of clothing I had hastily bought to impress Caden and my colleagues at Gisele but had not yet worn. As for the other trendy and non-functional items that I had only worn once or twice, I sold them on Craigslist.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Stevie and tried to control my stalker-ish apologies. I realized that he meant more to me than just a work mentor and fashion advisor. Maybe if I had valued him as the dear friend and boyfriend that he was, rather than for superficial benefits, I would have thought twice about ratting him out.

  In an unusual stroke of good coincidence, Calista’s PhD convocation was scheduled during my week off. I was not invited and in fact had not spoken to my girl friends in awhile, but decided it was appropriate to crash it. I hadn’t attended my own convocation for my MBA because I couldn’t get the time off work so it would be fun to imagine myself receiving the honour. I scanned the audience looking for Jackie and Lindsay but could not find them.

  There was something very honourable and romantic about the black gowns and caps that made me feel nostalgic. I didn’t know whether I was nostalgic for the sense of youth and endless possibility that comes with graduation or for my own innocence and idealism when I graduated. I cheered loudly when Calista was awarded her diploma. I heard a boisterous whistle, which helped me locate Jackie and Lindsay. Jackie, fingers in mouth, continued to whistle enthusiastically to the chagrin of those around her until Calista returned to her seat.

  After the ceremony, I watched Jackie and Lindsay run up to hug Calista. I allowed them a few moments before joining them.

  “Congratulations,” I told Calista. They looked shocked to see me.

  “We didn’t invite you because we figured you were working and you couldn’t come,” Lindsay jumped in, nervously.

  “That’s OK. I understand. Hey, big news – I quit my job! So I have a lot of spare time now.”

  They looked disbelievingly at me. “Well, actually, I tried to quit but my boss wouldn’t let me. She told me to take a week off so I’m on vacation right now but then I’m going back and I’m definitely going to quit. Again.”

  They looked skeptical and uncomfortable as I continued to ramble. “I realized what a selfish bitch I was and I can’t really blame Gisele but, well, I kind of do. I guess.”

  I did not find their silence and dubious expressions very reassuring.

  “My parents are looking for me over there,” Calista finally said, motioning arbitrarily. “They look lost. I’m going to go grab them. Veronica, thanks for coming. It was nice to see you.”

  Calista ran off, perhaps a little too quickly. I was starting to get nervous at their unenthusiastic reception. I wasn’t expecting a welcome back parade but at least some favourable signs that they were happy to see me return from corporate hibernation.

  “I feel horrible about what a bad friend I’ve been over the past year and I’m so sorry. Can you please forgive me?” I asked.

  Jackie spoke up after a tense silence. “Lindsay has something to tell you about the wedding.” Lindsay’s eyes widened in alarm as she looked back at Jackie pleadingly. Jackie backed away. “I’m going to be at the punch bowl. I hope it’s spiked.”

  “Oh yeah, the wedding’s coming up,” I turned to Lindsay. “I should be getting fitted soon for my bridesmaid gown and all that fun stuff.”

  “About that…” Lindsay looked at the ground.

  “What?” I asked, feeling uneasy.

  “I’m sorry but you were so busy all the time and you weren’t keeping in touch. We could never get a hold of you. And when we did see you, all you did was talk about Stevie and your job. It was like you didn’t care about us anymore. Or you thought you were too good. I didn’t think I was the bridezilla type but I got nervous and asked someone else to be my bridesmaid. And now I feel bad because…you’re different and it’s just not the same and…I hate all this wedding drama.”

  I stared at her throughout her ungraceful speech, horrified. “You un-bridesmaided me?”

  She looked back at me with a tortured expression. “Your hair looks nice.” she finally said.

  I did not thank her for the compliment but turned and walked away.

  I returned to work, physically refreshed and ready to face the hateful glares from my colleagues and scorn from Savannah.

  “How was your vacation?” Savannah asked me when I knocked on her door first thing Monday morning.

  “Good,” I entered and shut the door behind me. “Thanks for giving me the time off.”

  “I have good news for you,” Savannah smiled. “I’ve been having discussions and making some calls regarding a possible transfer to New York. It’s looking somewhat favourable that perhaps something may emerg
e within a year or so. Etienne should never have made such an unusual promise but then, these are unusual circumstances.”

  I swallowed, considering her proposal for a moment. The offer was exciting, but it did not escape me that her offer was couched in vague and uncertain terms such as “perhaps”, “may emerge” and “a year or so”.

  “Thank you for the opportunity but I still resign. This is my two weeks notice.” I handed her my resignation letter that I had copied from the Internet. She did not take it so I placed it politely on her desk. She looked unnerved.

  “Is your dog OK?” I asked.

  “Gucci’s fine,” she responded. “It’s disappointing that you are turning down such an incredible opportunity.”

  “It sounds more like a possibility,” I corrected her. “And not so much an opportunity.”

  “Well. That is more than what most people get.”

  “Things can change,” I replied.

  I excused myself wondering why Savannah had appeared so unsettled. It seemed unfathomable that it had anything to do with my resignation but then, maybe she gets evaluated on retention.

  The first person I told about my resignation was Sydney. We were no longer friends but for some reason, I wanted her to hear it from me.

  “So I quit,” I greeted Sydney.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “How? I just did it a second ago.” I hadn’t realized that office gossip travelled by way of osmosis.

  “Office pool,” she shrugged. She gestured at her whiteboard. I saw that there were several names of colleagues, each paired with a date. “I won.”

  “Oh.” I contemplated congratulating her for a moment but then realized that deriving profit out of someone else’s hardship was not worthy of praise.

  “I never paid Stevie for the dress he got me for the Gi-Spot party.” I handed Sydney the cheque I had made out to Stevie.

  Her eyes widened as she looked at the amount. “I’d just return it if I were you, that’s a lot of money for a dress.”

  “No, I can’t do that. That would be dishonest.” I didn’t really care about my honesty to the retailer. I was hoping that this gesture would somehow get back to and prove to Stevie that I really was a good person.

  Sydney looked back at me in disbelief.

  “It’s a beautiful dress and it reminds me of him so I want to keep it.”

  “So be it.” Sydney shrugged, accepted the cheque and resumed typing on her computer.

  I remained at her cube, searching for eloquent words but they did not come. After several moments of silence, Sydney gave me a look of disdain that she could only have perfected from receiving countless such looks from Savannah.

  “Look, I know I was totally horrible to Stevie. I have no excuse and I deserve losing him as a friend. But I just want to know if he’s OK. Can you at least just let me know how he’s doing?”

  She reflected for a moment and then carried on at her computer.

  “OK, I understand.” I turned to leave, disappointed.

  “No, wait, here’s an email I just got from him this morning. You can read it.”

  Hi - much thanks for hosting that fabulous dinner last week, or what I can remember of it. How many bottles of wine did I have?? I’m sure you’re a wonderful cook. When I finally recovered, I didn’t know what to do - go to AA or church, so I did both.

  I found one of those R&B churches, you know, where Whitney Houston and Jennifer Hudson sang growing up? Just like from the movies, where they dance and shake their booty and sing “Hallelujah” and “Praise the Lord”? Yes, these places actually exist! Oh my God, I cannot tell you how fabulous it is - it’s the most fun and exercise I’ve had sober! You MUST come with me next time!! To R&B church, not AA...

  “AA? That’s a little excessive. I didn’t know he was an alcoholic.”

  “There’s probably a lot of things you didn’t know about him. He’s going back to school and wants to be sober. He studying to be a fashion buyer.”

  I smiled, feeling an immense sense of pride for him. “Well…he sounds great.”

  “Hardly. He’s an unemployed alcoholic.”

  “No, I mean…he sounds like himself.”

  Sydney shot me a look of complete disagreement. “OK.”

  “Thank you.” I didn’t ask her to give Stevie my best wishes as she probably wouldn’t and he likely wouldn’t much care anyway.

  I dropped by Mateo’s cube to let my one remaining loyalist know (and Heidi by association as she had become somewhat of a permanent fixture after the PDA incident). It gave me a sense of comfort knowing that the information came from me and not from some nasty source. They were not surprised but seemed genuine in their well wishes.

  “Damn, I lost the pool,” Mateo grinned. “I thought you’d last at least another couple of months.”

  As I turned to leave, I realized that Chloe had been standing behind me, evidently having heard everything. She was quite pleased with herself. “Poor you. Now that Stevie’s gone, you finally realized that you just can’t cut it here. Must suck to have everyone hate you.”

  “Good luck with your anger management issues,” I said, unaffected by her words, and walked past her unsettled expression.

  Savannah was waiting for me at my cube when I returned.

  “I’ve been thinking about your transition plan,” she said.

  “In the last ten minutes?” I couldn’t help myself from saying, albeit politely.

  “Well, your assignment is critical. Phat Launch is scheduled to launch in two months and with very little notice it’s difficult to backfill your position so I’d like you to accelerate the launch to make it happen before you leave.”

  I was astonished by the preposterous request. “I’m sorry but that’s not reasonable…or even possible.”

  “Well, consider extending your resignation so that you can launch Phat Lash. It’s only an extra two months and it would be a great resume builder.”

  Still taken back by her insistence, I was so dumbfounded that I could not find a suitable response.

  “It would receive a glowing description in your reference letter,” she smiled.

  “I’ll finish what I can in two weeks,” I responded.

  Savannah’s expression darkened momentarily. “Well, think about it.” she added with a cheerful but strained smile.

  Incredulous but sheepishly triumphant, I must have sat still for several minutes, relishing Savannah’s loss of power over me, now that I had quit before I could be fired. I soon heard feverish typing from my cube neighbour and remembered once again that I had a cube neighbour. I heard him laugh softly and somewhat in delight to himself. I was perturbed to hear sounds coming from his cube but then I suddenly sat up in surprise and realization. I got up slowly and silently and made myself stealthily over to his cube and stood quietly outside, watching him type over his shoulder.

  My eyes narrowed in disbelief and outrage as I saw that he was typing a blog entitled Gisele Gossip. I could see the words:

  It’s official. Savannah’s crazy. Why else would she have begged Veronica to stay longer after her much-celebrated resignation? Come on Savannah, don’t make us hate you any more than we already do!

  “You little bugger,” I said, arms crossed.

  My cube neighbour yelped and shot up a foot in the air. He fumbled to hide what he was typing as he looked over his shoulder, “Oh my God, you scared me!”

  “You should be scared,” I said as ominously as I could. “Gossip Girl.”

  He seemed to shrink in his chair, his eyes betraying his panic. His small frame looked vulnerable as his mouth opened and closed uselessly, searching for a miraculous explanation. I felt sorry for him. Someone who gains pleasure from spying on other people and starting nasty rumours must have a pretty boring and sad existence.

  “Make my last entry good,” I finally said once I felt I had sufficiently unsettled him with my unflinching glare. He nodded, unnerved.

  I walked away, muttering, “I gott
a get out of this place.”

  Chapter 22: Reassessment

  “Cheers to Ronnie not selling her soul!”

  “Or to renting it out for a year and then taking it back,” Calista added to Jackie’s toast. I let that one slide, as it was true and I was sucking up to my girls to win them back.

  “Or to being so understanding about being unbridesmaid-ed,” Lindsay said, her expression betraying her remaining sense of guilt over her decision.

  I was back at our favourite pub, the Betty Ford Clinic, with Jackie, Calista and Lindsay.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Calista asked.

  “You know, I didn’t think I would but I really like marketing so I think I’m going to check out some less…intense companies.”

  “Whatever happened to saving the world?” Lindsay asked.

  “Well, maybe later, but for now I’m open. And besides, I don’t think not-for-profit was what I really wanted. It just seemed, I don’t know, honourable.”

  “You don’t need an honourable job to be an honourable person,” Calista said. I smiled at her. I missed Calista’s philosophical Zen Buddhist musings.

  “True. Maybe I should just focus on trying to be an honourable person.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lindsay said. Always the first to soften, Lindsay was the first to reach out to me after I had emailed the group a very long apology letter. I didn’t know whether the gays are more bitter and apt to holding grudges than long time girlfriends but the girls were instantly receptive to my sincere – if not at the point of groveling – apology.

  “Oh no, we’re going to milk your guilt for as long as we can. Just you watch.” Of course, Jackie would like me to grovel some more.

  Jackie brought me up to date on her dating life. She had, in fact, gone on a couple dates with the drummer (aka Naked Towel Boy) of Carpenter Boy’s band. At the time I was MIA, and so she hadn’t taken advantage of the situation to set me up with Carpenter Boy. Alas, after a couple of dates, she found Naked Towel Boy to be a yawn, as he was only capable of talking about his band and seventies rock bands, two topics that did not particularly excite Jackie, even if he was a hot yawn.