Triple B & Pheromones

You have no idea. Honestly not one idea in the least. You may have an inkling. I’ll give you that. But idea? No clue. At first,  I denied it. I mean who shits where they eat? No relationships at work, right? But pheromones are a bitch. 

That first day I saw you in the cafeteria, I knew you felt it. You can probably still feel it now. You can feel my crush all you want, but I’ll never confess it. The moral of it all is: My fear of rejection is bigger than my crush. My ego nor my feelings could take it. I can ask you out,  I can’t deal with, “No.” 

At first, I thought my 3 month journey into celibacy had me feeling hot and bothered. I said to myself, “Eh. You’re in heat, it’ll pass.”

And I thought it did. Until I saw you again. Nope. Fuck. I’m conflicted. I don’t like when you’re around me. Wait. Because I like the way you walk (strut) across the room,  I’ll take that back. I don’t like how you make me feel. I lose my train of thought because you have an endearing feature I’ve termed “Baseball Butt”. I get hot, my ears ring, my skin flushes. It’s purely physical. I know nothing about you. We’ve barely spoke.   

I wanted to know more. I was intrigued. And I just happens that intrigue brings friends. Good friends, not jealous ones. A good friend who happens to be your friend. A friend who, after hearing of my interest of you her face lit up and she morphed into your verbal E Harmony profile. Matchmaking ass….

But, I must say, I was sold. My physical attraction had now been surpassed by a genuine interest. From what I’m told, we’re a good match. I mean, you’re a Capricorn, I’m a Taurus(great match!). We both share a common interest in good food and cooking (you’d❤ my Bourbon teriyaki wings), you’re a Game of Thrones fan,  and my playful wit balances out your serious nature. You’re a single dad working making a good life for your kids, I’m the daughter of a single father who is preparing to move my Dad to Boston so I can take care of him now. If you were a a Buick with low mileage and seat warmers, she could’ve sold you in the spot.  Matchmaker had me so hyped I was ready to woo you with an Edible Arrangement from a secret admirer to flatter you. Then I’d send you a note and have this same friend set up this romantic reveal where the power of vodka gives me the nerve to admit my feelings to which you reply with a nonchalant “You could’ve just told me”, after which we morphed into the practical, lovable,loyal, financially secure, hardworking couple Astromatcha said we would be.

STOP.

 

 

Five minutes ago, I only wanted to leave the whole thing alone. Now I’m planning GoT season premiere cuddle nights complete with Buzzfeed recipes. 

STOP.

What the hell? You don’t even know I exist. From what I gather, you’re a nice guy. But I can say with an earnest heart, i don’t ever think you’ve eye fucked me. You’ve never looked at me that way. There haven’t been more than 10 words passed between us.

Plus, secret admirer is one sneeze away from Stalker. I don’t want to creep you out. My worst fear is having the Edible Arrangement taken wrong and I become the Workplace Stalker. I’ll just push these feelings down until they go away. I’ll avoid your eye contact like my name was Mary Katherine Gallagher. I’ll save myself the embarrassnent. And the $60 bucks I was going to use on the Edible Arrangement.

Luckily we only work together one night a week so it’ll be easy to avoid you. They’ll go away one day. They have no choice…. I heard Rejection is a bitch and I don’t want to meet her.

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