In my last story called Douche-Bagging, I eluded to a newly developed relationship and due to popular demand Robby asked me to tell this story — The Story of Noah. So a bit of background, about a year and a half ago I started a new job with the help of my cousin.
The day I went to my interview, I immediately realized who I was interviewing with. It was a man named Warren (my potential new boss), and I was shamefully reminded by my own drunken memories that I once met his daughter and took her snowmobiling while very intoxicated. That seemed like a classy memory to have. Naturally I called my cousin and shared this with him, asking that he keep it between us, which he did do for about 30 seconds until he called Warren and told him about our conversation.
Luckily my sophomoric actions of debauchery did not hinder my job offer and I have been here ever since, acting like an adult 40% of the time. The other part of the time I am usually talking to people, or goofing off, despite the fact that I am in the last year of my 20’s and should know better. And because I am a child, it means I still have crushes on people and get butterflies, which is a reminder that innocence still exists! What proves it does not? Glad you asked! An example of that would be when I met Noah for the first time, on the first day of work, and thought, “I want to climb him like a tree!” because there are not any pre-adolescent girls out there saying that. If there are, then shame on their parents!
When I met him I figured he was probably married or had a super-hot girlfriend and so I didn’t think about it too much. Because we worked in the same industry we would see each other at meetings and events over the next 10 months but that was it. Then, one day he stopped in the office and chatted with me for a half hour, and a couple weeks later he sent me an email asking if I wanted to go to get lunch or drinks — two of my favorite things!
We went to get drinks the next week, and I was about 30 minutes late, which is not surprising for those who know me! I spent the entire time trying to figure out if this was work or not work. It was like an exhausting tennis match in my head and I didn’t know who was winning, or who I wanted to win for that matter. It went like this:
- He started talking about work. Clearly it was work.
- I continued to talk about work; he stopped me. Not work?
- He told me my hair looked really nice. Not work!
- I sarcastically responded with, “Thanks, I washed it today.” Maybe not work, but also not romantic.
- When the check came for dinner and drinks, he paid, and when I offered to split, he tells me it is on him. Ok, but I think he can expense this — so, work!
- He leaves the receipt. Not work?
- He walks me to my car. Not work.
- Oh, he is parked right next to me. Work.
- He hugs me and points to something as he does. I look over, he kisses my cheek. Not work? However maybe work because he didn’t kiss my lips? But did he not kiss my lips because I moved?
As I leave I replay this in my mind over and over but think that I am most likely crazy, cause, well, I know me. The next week we exchange a plethora of flirtatious emails and attempt to make plans for drinks, however nothing seems to work out in the near future. One weekend day I get a text from him that says, “Despite my early work schedule Tuesday morning, I do not want to wait another week to see you, does tomorrow (Monday) still work?”
Ok, I may be blonde, but I’m not that blonde; this is clearly more than work! The next day he sends me his address and tells me to meet him there; we will go get dinner somewhere. I run into one of my bosses’ offices — Mick — and we quickly plug the address into Google Earth. We inspect it thoroughly, even seeing where I should park as I declare; “this looks like it is on the corner of Sodomy Lane and Hookup Avenue.”
I was nervous for this date so called a girlfriend and met her for happy hour. Three strong vodka drinks on an empty stomach later, I make my way to Noah’s. We decide on sushi and it is conveniently within walking distance. I let him order because one, I am too drunk to do so and need to keep my composure, and two, this place was too fancy for me to understand anything on the menu. We load up on Sake, beer, and lots of raw fish, which is clearly the best thing for my stomach.
As we head back to his house he finally kisses me, and I cannot tell if the flutters are my excitement or the rumblings of the alcohol and fish party in my stomach, but I press on like a champion. As I sit on his couch, he makes me a Manhattan and gives me champagne to add to the party! Maybe the combination of all of this is like magic confidence juice because the next thing I know, I am straddling him, taking his belt off as I ask about his family and how many siblings he has.
After a few different bang sessions and a night of restless sleep I get up to go home, you know, to get ready for work. I call Mick on the way and tell him that while it is an hour and a half before the office opens, I am almost to work! I then let him know that I am only passing by because I am on the way home to change. He offers to buy me breakfast first, so I can overshare about my sexcapades the night before, however at the very mention of food, I almost have to open my door on the interstate — in rush hour traffic — to puke, but see the cop next to me and decide that would be a bad idea.
I stop for a Gatorade and barely make it to the bathroom at home before I do puke. I then pass out on my bed, in last night’s dress, with make up smeared all across my face.
I am convinced that is the worst hangover I have ever had in my 29 years of life, and that is even taking into consideration the time my mom peeled me off the floor of the Grand Hyatt’s bathroom when I was 20.
All that being said, I think that’s enough nonsense from me today. Why spill all the fun about Noah right now? There are still plenty of stories about him to be shared with you in the future, like breaking and entering, sending texts from his phone and many more!
With love, J!