“It’s simple Stac, really. You just haven’t gotten all the slut out,” Sam replied to my endless chatter. Having worked together at two different jobs among the last eight years or so, she knew me way too well.
“So it’s not just inching closer to 30, ya think?” I squinted at her through the bright midday sun. She just shook her head.
“That’s part of it, but frankly had you ever had a real college experience, you probably wouldn’t be going through this as intensely as you are. I’m sure as hell not.” She wagged her two-karat-wrapped diamond finger at me as proof.
“Yeah, but you’re birth control is a higher dosage of estrogen than mine,” I laughed at her as she flicked me off.
As usual, she was probably close to being on target. Each month the week following, I would swing into horny mode. You’d think this would otherwise be a great situation with a perfectly sexy and fun boyfriend showing up at my apartment each evening, but the last several months the craze had actually been focused on someone else. And poor Sam had to be the one to hear about it, as she was among the very few I could trust with the secret I otherwise would never actually act on.
The issue has been, since around April of this past year, that “someone else” is more or less an executive at my company. A very deliciously gorgeous, very MARRIED executive who could technically be categorized as a boss in many senses. Oddly enough, I only feel this way during this one week however. The other few weeks of the month I simply enjoy this person’s fun sense of humor, melting smile and light office chatter on the infrequent times I actually see him wander into my area of the office (I'm not kidding when I say there are many reasons to put the effort into getting beautified in the mornings!) Nevertheless, I cannot fathom for the life of me why I keep going through this exact same monthly cycle and WHY ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH I cannot revert this focus onto my boyfriend (side note: Every other week is on him. Really. It’s strange.)
Sam thinks, as she’s pointed out every month for the last eight or so odd months, that I didn’t sleep around enough in college and thus she’s concluded that there’s just a certain amount of slutty sleeping aroundness that I have to go through in order to end up at the place where I want to settle down with one person. Hmmm… it’s a thought to consider but the simple fact that I’m pushing closer to 30 everyday just seems to click in my head as a valid reason as well, if not the most prominent.
So as my odd week is (hopefully) coming to an end and I find myself able to actually concentrate on other things- like just how drunk I really want to get tonight for NYE at this house party I’m going to- I’m hoping I’ll somehow find a way out of the insane daydreams of a man I’ll never actually go after, in some life I’ll never actually have. I’d much rather be enjoying my own existing reality anyway.