The Hits Keep Coming

I found a really nice distraction in my elevator at work last week. He is tall. He has brownish hair and just enough geek in him to make me think wistfully of tweed jackets and profound discourse over bottles of wine.

We didn’t have stunning interaction. I held the elevator for him (one of my best moves, I think). He said “thank you”. I said “of course, I’ll marry you”. Oh, wait, no, that was just in the thought bubble above my head. Live action Kate responded with “Hi”. I know, way to sell it.

Then we stood there. We smiled. We looked at the fascinating floor numbers scroll. I may have contemplated accidentally pulling the emergency stop. Alas, before I could do anything the elevator got to his floor. Why? Why? Why does the universe hate me so much as to put this guy on the 10th floor instead of the 20th?

Doors started to slide open. The moment had come. He turned to me and said “have a nice day” in a way that clearly meant “I’ve already spoken to your father, I have the engagement ring in my pocket, and we’re eloping to Italy right now.” No, I don’t think I was reading into it, at all. Why?

I, naturally, responded with something eloquent and heartfelt. It was sort of a combination of “thank you” and “you, too”—which pretty much came out as “thanktoothmpfpst” as the door slid shut, again. Yep, I was just incoherent enough to give the impression of a quality education and a life as one of the great communicators.

Well, I was smitten enough to not to let this kind of encounter go as a chance unintelligible meeting of strangers. I set my friends on the task of figuring out who this lovely man was, while secretly praying that he wasn’t actually as young as he looked.

Why didn’t I pursue this on my own? Are you kidding? Didn’t you read how I handled our initial points of contact? I needed skilled women, who might not be adverse to a little deviousness to get the job done. I needed a team. Luckily, I have such a team, and they went to work.

They got his company name. We figured out that a little careful stalk… uh… strolling close to the parking garage benches at the right time in the morning would probably do the trick. Someone suggested wearing the Jimmy Choo boots to get his attention. I did briefly think about tripping him with the boots. But I had to veto the idea because they might get scuffed. You don’t scuff the Choo’s.

Sounds foolproof, right?

Right. If the universe didn’t hate me, it would have been. Since we all know the universe has a not so secret plot to destroy me, I should have seen this coming.

Married? 20? Gay? All of these things I could have dealt with in appropriate ways.

Guess what I didn’t anticipate? The strike. I didn’t anticipate that his company would lay off the majority of their workforce the day after I met him. So, instead of elevator rides fraught with passionate looks and possible multi-syllable exchanges, he got a pink slip.

Seriously, universe, you don’t think this was a little much?

I’m just saying.


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