Two friends took me shopping the other day because I am SHIT at dressing myself, and they advised me to (ie, made me) try on this dress.
“I look like I’m wearing an Amish person’s pillowcase!”
“You look amazing, shut up. You’re buying this dress, deal with it.”
I wore it to work today and have been complimented multiple times — all by women. Even if logic says it’s POSSIBLE every straight dude in this building wants to bend me over their desk and plant their dicks under the dress like you’d plant a flag on a newly discovered planet, but can’t say so because it’s a workplace, I maintain that it’s because I look square and sexless.
But it’s basically a giant t-shirt, so whatever. It’s better than wearing pants. And I definitely have…let’s say “a lot more invested in the dress” than the model.
A man in my office, who’s old enough to be my father, was just making small talk with me, and he said, “I have jury duty next week. What a pain in the ass, I have to take the fuckin’ train in…”WHOA. Watch your fucking mouth, motherfucker! This is a fucking place of business, and I am a fucking LADY!
Do you, like, smell the hoodrat on me? Is there something about my face that makes you think this is acceptable? It’s not even that I’m a woman — it’s just bad manners, and you KNOW you have bad manners if I’M the one pointing it out. But also… yes, as long as wage gaps and thigh gaps are things I’m just expected to deal with, I do expect a base level of civility and etiquette until you get the all-clear that I’m cool with that kind of rapport, especially at work, especially when you’re a grown-ass man, shitdick.
(I had a similar reaction when a 21-year-old female assistant used “fuck” during our second at-work conversation. BITCH, I am old enough to be your mother, and I will knock the “fuck” right out of your FACE.)
At least I was merely adorably disheveled and visibly fiending for coffee when I encountered an attractive man in the office kitchen first thing this morning. And I smell good, and my cleavage is on point. So I wasn’t the messiest of hot messes.
But we’ll just ignore that my clothes fit weird today and my hair is a Whitesnake video.
I get the biggest crushes on guys who work in my office cafeterias. I think it has something to do with them being bringers of snacks and coffee. My office environment downfall is hot guys near my food and caffeine. It’s like a stimulus trifecta: man; coffee; food. All things nibble-able and drinkable within a small radius.
And hey, this new guy is 8 years younger than I am, which means I AM a bawdy old lady, but I’m NOT literally old enough to be his mom. I am, however, young enough to finish him like a cheesecake.
C’mon, summer, hurry up — I work better in sundresses.