I often refer to Google as my religion, so I really hope they pull their heads out of their asses here.
‘Cause, yeah, I can have principles and change my email addresses and use different search engines and storage sites, but…it’s fucking Google. No one cares. I’d be like those assholes who tried to boycott “Hamilton” — sure, sweetie, good luck with that.
Also, I mean…you can’t get that data? Can’t you just Google it?
My (male, straight) boss just emailed me with the subject line “available?” and asked me to do a work thing.
I replied and said I’d do it, and then he wrote back, “I also just realized that my subject line could get me in some HR trouble… ha… I’ll be more specific next time.”
Oh. It actually didn’t even cross my mind that my married, just-had-a-baby boss might be soliciting me for…whatever, until you pointed that out, but…well, NOW I’m uncomfortable.
I mean, aside from the “married, just-had-a-baby, boss” bit, I totally would, but all things considered, I’m incapable of perceiving anything you do as flirtation. Obviously don’t grab my ass or anything, but as far as hitting on me, you’d have to be pretty explicit for me to pick up on it. I can’t tell when eligible dudes are flirting with me.
Plus he has like five kids, so his sperm are far too industrious to be allowed anywhere NEAR my bits.
I promise I have other topics for later today, but in the meantime I’ll need one of you to come tie my hands together so I don’t end up responding to That Guy’s email to ask if he wrote me solely because he saw the “closure” post the other day.*
It’s TOO big a coincidence to be anything else.
And with that, fuck this. I have awesome to be. (Let’s see if that posturing is effective.)
*If you need to make the hand tying kinky, though, I can probably work with that.
EDIT: Crisis averted! Never underestimate the healing powers of red lipstick, great hair, coffee, and music. (Bruno Mars, “Uptown Funk” and The Band Perry, “Done,” if you wondered.)
Snag in one of my new life goals: Turns out you can’t block an email address unless you have an existing email from the person you’re blocking.
It’s been maybe 6 months since I apparently VERY thoroughly deleted all that in an attempt at mental feng shui.
It’s also been about 6 months since this was even an issue, so I probably don’t NEED to do it. I was just going for a Rachel-Green-style “And THAT, my friend, is what they call CLOSURE.” (I realize that’s a bad metaphor; that turned out a lot differently than this is likely going to.)
And there was comfort in the idea, because there wouldn’t be anymore worrying about letting my guard down when checking email — let’s be honest, stupidly half-hoping I’d ever be worth more than a drunk-texted apology at 3 a.m.
I’d have disappeared, so my brain could be all, “WHAT?! Come at me, bro!” [/Jersey]
Alternately: “Nyah, nyah, you can’t get me!” [/inner child]
A friend got a late-night drunk text from a guy last night (not even a booty call, ’twas about the feels), and I got one recently as well, leading us to a conversation about what people are thinking when they do this.
For me, the late-night drunk text will get you absolutely nowhere. In fact, it will set you back, because in addition to whatever the text says (which I automatically think is drunken horseshit because of the time, OR that you meant to text someone else), you’re also saying you don’t think enough of me to come correct soberly and say it by the light of day. It’s insulting, and pretty much makes you look like an asshole.
I can’t even imagine how much shit I’d get if I pulled that on a guy. I wouldn’t even get to defend myself — he’d probably just block my number, because it’s a dick move. If a chick did it, we’d get written off as your crazy psycho stalker. (Unless it’s a booty call, in which case I think we’d be cleared. Maybe… I personally have such a hard time sleeping that if anyone woke me up planning to penetrate me, I’d probably be pretty pissed. Don’t know how dudes would react.)
P.S. I AM, however, allllll about the late-night drunk email. It doesn’t wake anyone up, and I like waking up to long-form sexiness in my inbox…tee hee…
Today I was looking for something in my Gmail, and in the search results, I happened upon one of the emails I wrote but never sent to my crush. It was a list of things I liked about him, both mental and very, VERY physical.
When your brain is not in the porny place (ie, when you’re at WORK merely trying to ascertain the status of your running magazine subscription at lunchtime), finding that stuff is extremely disconcerting. Now I’m beet red. And also incredibly turned on.