Monday, July 31, 2006

Ohhh baby when you talk like that...

One hazard of being a 21-year-old female intern at a men’s magazine: the inability to stop interpreting every word/glance/gesture from my male colleagues (ok, superiors) as a clear attempt at flirtation, and probably also a preliminary marriage proposal. I would imagine this difficulty is exacerbated when one is, for the time being, avoiding bars (the traditional setting for such exchanges) and is thus feeling especially lonely for the opposite sex. (Horny.) And, the worst part: I can’t seem to stop reciprocating.

Example 1: At our weekly meeting, the editor-in-chief tells the staff we’re all looking perky and well rested.
“Except,” he says suddenly, pointing across the room, “you.” Me.
Clearly, he loves me. No other reason for him to single me out like that. So I bend over a little further than necessary as I pick up a meeting agenda, thus allowing him to see a hint of my lovely breasts. You know, so he’ll see that I can provide a sweet resting place for his head after a long day of work. And to remind him of the (our) babies who will one day suckle at my bosom.
Problem 1: I have no breasts.
Problem 2: He’s not looking.

Example 2: As the deputy editor and I approach the office early one morning, he quickens his pace in order to arrive at the door first, so he can hold it open for me. That’s it. That’s the whole incident. Still, I’m convinced he wants to bring me home after work, rip off my clothes, and whisper naughty words as I caress his smooth bald head.
So I respond. “Gosh, it’s so hard to get used to chivalrous men like this. College boys just aren’t the same.” I touch my collarbone as I talk, wearing half a smile and looking up at him bashfully.
Problem 1: He’s happily married.
Problem 2: I’m beginning to cross into absolute joke territory.
Problem 3: I can’t stop myself.
Problem 4: I’m attracted to a bald man.

Example 3: An associate editor stops by my desk to talk about the upcoming sex page I’m working on. Our conversation includes the words penis, vagina, oral, lubricant, climax and clitoris.
A warm feeling starts to well up near my ears. My lips being to form a sultry pout. I reach under my skirt to take care of that itch on the inside of my upper thigh. My cardigan slips off one of my shoulders.
Problem 1: This editor happens to be a female.
Problem 2: She’s straight.
Problem 3: So am I.

So out of control. Fuck. Fuck.


posted by Lion @ 7/31/2006 10:53:00 AM |


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