“Never say never,” I replied, managing a genuine grin.
I suppose I couldn’t fault the guy for trying.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
30. That night, I was sitting morosely on the couch, tucked into a little ball, contemplating the meaning of life, when I heard the buzzer for the front door go off unexpectedly.
As I hadn’t been expecting company, I was most definitely not dressed to receive (although flannel Minnie Mouse pj’s do make a certain fashion statement), and I reached for the intercom hesitantly.
Out of the blue, I immediately recognized Jonathan’s voice as he said, “Hey, I was in the neighbourhood and I took a chance that you might be home. I brought wine if you’re up in some company.”
Yikes! It was sweet of him to check up on me, but how had the previous women in his life not taught him to give a girl some notice first? That sort of basic training should really be set out somewhere on the first page of the dating manual.
Thankfully, this had been Jonathan’s only slip up so far, so I figured I could cut the guy some slack.
But it did raise an interesting possibility. Now that I had some time on my hands, perhaps I should do the female population a favour and try my hand at a dating manual for men? I certainly had first-hand experience with a variety of horrifying topics such as the importance of showering regularly and proper man-scaping techniques. That or a resume, but creating one of the two in the near future was a must!
“Okay, come on up,” I replied meekly.
A glass or two of wine and good company certainly didn’t sound unappealing regardless of my current state of sartorial splendour.
I pondered a quick wardrobe change but I didn’t like my odds of completing that somewhat taxing task before Jonathan arrived at my door and opening the door half naked was not an option that I was willing to contemplate at this particular point in our relationship; or at least not until I had a few glasses of wine in me.
As I stood in front of the hallway mirror, looking myself over in my winter sleep-wear with hair tied back and no makeup anywhere in sight, I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done to piss off the universe lately.
Right then, as if on cue, I heard Jonathan knock at the door.
I opened it timidly, half hiding behind the door until he wrapped his arms around me and the intoxicating scent of his cologne immediately causing me to relax as he enveloped me in his arms and kissed my forehead.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get out of the office in time to see you last night. A file was going off the rails and I didn’t get out of the office until early this morning. I figured that you probably wouldn’t want me calling you at 3 a.m. How’re you doing? You’re looking pretty cute in those pj’s,” he noted with a cheerful smile as he admired my nightwear.
“Thanks, poverty and depression must agree with me,” I responded with a deadpan expression.
“Well, why don’t we open this up and you can fill me in on everything that’s been going on,” he replied, as he presented a bottle of liquid stress relief.
Okay, I admit that my last thought may have made me sound a bit too partial to my vino, but every study I’ve heard about on the radio or online always seems to conclude that a glass or two a day is beneficial to my health and who I am to go against established medical science (or whoever writes those articles), right?
“Sounds good to me,” I replied as I settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket around me as I cocooned myself while I waited for Jonathan to return with the wine.
“Did I mention that I sort of had a job interview while I was out with Elyse last night?” I inquired warily.
Unfortunately, my memory was still a little fuzzy with respect to some of the finer details of the previous night’s events and I really couldn’t recall what details I had, or had not, shared.
“You’re kidding? No, I’m pretty sure that didn’t come up but that’s fantastic news. What was the job? And how did you manage to get that set up so quickly?” he responded, as he turned to me with a look of incredulity spread across his face.
“I can’t really claim any credit for that to be honest. Actually I don’t even have a resume put together quite yet,” I mumbled under my breath.
Mental note - that’s probably something that you should start on toute suite!
“But Elyse knows a guy who started his own publishing company and it turns out he might have an opening for a junior publicity specialist. It could be the perfect job for me since it’s the field I want to work in, it relates to my degree and, even though I don’t exactly know what it involves (something I probably should inquire about at some point), it sounds like it would be really interesting,” I said, blushing as I realized that my complete lack of knowledge about the position probably was a bit comical.
“That sounds really promising. How do you think the interview went?” Jonathan asked, as he handed me a glass of wine.
That’s was a question probably best left to someone that could actually remember the interview.
“So, the thing is…Elyse had given me a few drinks to calm me down before she mentioned that she had set this meeting up,” I began, as I tried to figure out how to tell the rest of the story while maintaining some semblance of dignity and not coming off like a raging alcoholic.
“Nigel seemed to be a really good guy and things seemed to go okay, but I think I might have been a bit tipsy and I’m not really sure if he genuinely thought I might be a good fit for the job or if he was just humouring me and trying to keep me from knocking a drink into his lap…which I didn’t!” I concluded, flinging my arm out for emphasis and, in a horribly ironic twist, sending Jonathan’s wine flying in a graceful arc that seemed to momentarily hang in mid-air before ultimately ending up all over his rather expensive looking suit and white shirt.
“Frick! I’m so sorry! That story had an awfully quick karmic circle attached to it, didn’t it?” I exclaimed, as I ran to grab some soda water.
“No worries, accidents happen and it makes for a good story at least,” Jonathan replied, stripping off his suit jacket as I started liberally rubbing him down and finding a surprisingly taunt and muscular chest beneath his shirt.
Hmm, perhaps this accident might lead a happy ending after all, I thought to myself as I explored a bit further.
“You’re quite a thorough cleaner, aren’t you?” Jonathan noted, as I continued rubbing.
“Any job worth doing is a job worth doing well,” I replied, with a twinkle in my eye.
“But maybe this would be easier if you just took your shirt off?” I continued, lying blatantly about my motivations.
“I can’t argue with that logic,” Jonathan replied with a wink as he peeled off his shirt, much to my delight.
Well now, who knew lawyers had time to work out? If only I had aimed that wine with a bit more foresight…
“Is that better?” he asked, grinning at me now.
“Well, it certainly was helpful,” I responded as I coyly ran a finger down his chest before he lifted me onto his lap and drew me slowly towards him, his hands in my hair as his lips hungrily reached mine.
Minnie Mouse was quickly discarded in an attempt to bring a little balance to the situation and, as Jonathan explored the curves of my body, caressing me with his hands, I responded by playfully biting his lower lip and trailing a hand lightly along the inside of his thigh.
His scent, fresh and sharp, was intoxicating and causing all of the rational parts of my mind to quickly shut off as I kissed his neck and pushed him back on the couch, my fingers wrapping around the soft strands of his hair, pulling him fervently towards me when, as if I was being snapped back to reality out of a dream, I heard a jingling in the lock.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned to Jonathan as I wrapped myself around him to cover up a bit as Elyse walked out of the entrance way and into the living room.
I was quickly starting to u
nderstand why none of the characters in Sex and the City had a roommate scripted into their lives. Those steamy scenes that once made for must see TV don’t work out quite the same way when there was a shared wall.
“It’s okay, the best things in life are worth waiting for, and the preview was fantastic,” Jonathan whispered softly to me as he wrapped his arms around me and I could feel him laughing quietly as Elyse saw us, smiled and apologized profusely before beating a hasty retreat back to her bedroom.
Sighing softly to myself as I walked Jonathan to door, I couldn’t help thinking that whoever said patience is a virtue clearly had not seen Jonathan without his shirt on.
If you call failures experiments, you can put them in your resume and claim them as achievements – Mason Cooley
31. I arrived at work the next morning feeling restless and on edge. It was the last day I would ever spend in my twenties and, as we had already had a very satisfying ten year relationship, I was quite reluctant to let the decade go without a fight.
It hadn’t helped that Thumper had died a sudden and untimely death last night after Jonathan’s departure. As a result, I was left without any form of respite from my frustrations; frustrations which were building to a level that was becoming increasingly distracting.
Let’s face it, when you start longing for some quality time with your parents’ massage chair, you know something’s seriously amiss!
With my weekend filled with birthday plans, and my impending date with unemployment looming ever closer, I had vowed to myself that I would do something productive and get a resume put together and out to Nigel before the end of the day.
After a little assistance from Google and Veronica, I managed to locate a template that looked appropriate and I got to work.
Sadly, 30 minutes later, as I looked down forlornly at my screen, it had become blatantly obvious that my descriptions of ‘administrative assistant’ and ‘bartender’ neither took up a whole lot of space on a page nor screamed ‘upcoming junior publicity specialist’.
I wonder if going out with a string of socially awkward men and driving Elyse home from the bar on countless occasions counted as volunteer work?
As she reviewed my work while peering over my shoulder, Veronica delicately pointed out, “Well, you’ve probably already got the inside track already anyway. You’ve already met your boss and had an interview. Your resume might not even matter to him at this point.”
Hmm, let’s see. It had taken me multiple attempts to successfully shake his hand, he had had to help me into my seat to keep me from falling over and I almost knocked a drink into his lap.
I think I’m going to add in my grade 12 English award, just to be safe.
“Anything’s possible I suppose, but I don’t want to come across as being overconfident,” I replied, trying to stifle a nervous laugh.
Overconfidence was the least of my worries. As I gazed down upon my half page resume, it seemed to scream out ‘NOT QUALIFIED’.
Thirty minutes and a font size increase later, I had almost filled up an entire page. After I decided that adding any more filler would, at best, only increase the comedic value of my submission, I took a deep breath and hit the send button on my email.
Not wanting to wait around for Nigel’s reply, and freed from any worries about being fired, I talked Veronica into grabbing a quick coffee as nobody was scheduled to be in for a meeting until after lunch.
Having grabbed a table and a couple of lattes, I caught up on the latest happenings with Derek as we idly gazed at the constant parade of men in finely tailored suits wandering past.
Working downtown certainly had its perks.
“Did I tell you that after I suggested to Derek that we go someplace we can dance this weekend, he offered to take me to some country bar out in Langley?” Veronica moaned, with an expression on her face that resembled that of a child who just found out Santa isn’t real.
“It was sweet of him to come up with the idea I guess, but two stepping definitely wasn’t what I had in mind when I said that! On the other hand, I bet his butt will look cute in some tight jeans and it’s a good excuse to get some new boots,” she continued with a giggle.
“Way to make lemonade out of that lemon of an idea,” I replied.
I also wasn’t a huge fan of the country bar scene, but give me any country singer that resembles Keith Urban and, well, that’s a whole different story…
“I once picked up a full winter wardrobe for a ski trip and, in that whole weekend, the only time I ended up leaving the chalet was for dinner. But we still managed to stay warm somehow,” I continued, grinning as I fondly recalled some of the more heated moments from that weekend.
That had definitely been a win – win situation…
Once we had made our way back to the office, I sat down and peeked at my inbox furtively. Based on my performance during our initial meeting, I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to see a response from Nigel waiting there for me or not.
As I glanced at the screen out of the corner of my eye, sure enough, I saw a new email sitting there, bold as day.
Sure enough, Nigel had already responded.
Taking a deep breath, I opened his response:
Dear Miss Anagram (as an aside, kudos to your parents on the inspired piece of wordplay),
I was elated to see that you decided to apply for a position with my company. Please let me know if you would be able to attend an interview next Monday at 5 p.m. at our offices. Wine will not be served but I would still be happy to assist with seating you upon request.
Sincerely,
Nigel Kane
That cheeky British monkey! I suppose that erased any doubts about whether he could tell that I was a tiny bit tipsy the other night. Still, I need to defend my dignity…
Dear Kind Sir,
I am amendable to meeting with you on Monday at 5 p.m. to discuss a position which you feel my sophisticated and diverse suite of skills might be suited to. However, while I appreciate your thoughtfulness and concern with respect to having me safely seated, I have fully recovered from my brief bout of vertigo and your assistance, well intentioned though it may be, will not be required at this juncture.
Sincerely,
Miss Anagram
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come – William Shakespeare
32. Having left work that night finally feeling like I might have a chance of finding meaningful employment, I was in the perfect mood to discover what Elyse had in store for my birthday celebration that night.
I was relatively confident that two days would be enough time for me to regain my sobriety prior to my interview Monday afternoon, but showing up hung over for my interview and providing Nigel with the opportunity to send me another sassy email was not an option.
Elyse had kept me completely in the dark about our plans for the night and she had sworn all my friends to secrecy; telling me only to be ready to go at 7 p.m. that night.
While I was a little hesitant to leave things completely in her hands, I figured that this was unquestionably her area of expertise. One way or another, I was pretty sure it would be a memorable night.
After slipping (struggling mightily for the better part of 10 minutes to squeeze myself) into a dress that had required me to eat sensibly (starve myself) since Boxing Day, I made it downstairs just as a limo was pulling up.
Good Vibrations Page 13