Confessions of a Laid-off Lawyer

Just Your Average Joe Blogging Away His Debt—In One Year or Less

Puppy Love

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Total Black: $394.07
Total Red: $225,563.13

I’m still spending too much time thinking about this guy at the theatre, the same I dubbed Drunk Texter in prior posts like Later Night / Early Morning or Hot Toxic Love.  And as I noted in Hot Toxic Love, my feelings for him are truly toxic.  I wish I knew what his hold over me was.

Earlier this week I attended the birthday of a coworker.  He invited people over to his apartment for a get together before heading out to a nearby club to continue celebrations.  We actually ended up back at his apartment again around 3am.  I didn’t make it back home until nearly 4am.  But I had a blast.  And, of course, Drunk Texter attended as well.

The night started out innocently enough.  I showed up around 9pm or so at my coworker’s apartment in Harlem.  I had arrived in his neighborhood earlier than I expected, so I grabbed a coffee at Starbucks to kill time.  Earlier that day I had worked a few hours at the contract attorney position in the morning before leaving to work at the theatre.  Once I finished up at the theatre, I stopped back at my apartment to take a nap and change clothes for the party.  I had intended to head back over to the contract attorney job and work an hour or so, possibly catch a cab uptown, show my face for an hour or so, and then head back to the law job before calling it a night.  That clearly didn’t happen.  By the time I started walking to the contract attorney site, I realized I’d be there just a few minutes before needing to leave.  Not so, it turned out, as I was probably the third person to arrive even though our host had asked us not to be late.  But I digress.

One shift I’ve been working lately at the theatre is Hawker.  Why it’s called that I do not know except that the person working that shift sells candy and water to patrons attending the shows.  Hawks it, I suppose.  And for quite a few weeks now I’ve been working that shift on Saturday and Sunday mornings before the Gazillion Bubbles Show.  Drunk Texter nearly always works that show at that time.  And, for whatever reason, during that shift he and I have been intensely flirting, teasing, speaking in double entendre . . . or sometimes flat-out.  I might casually mention that my back is sore and he’d say something like “not as sore as I’d make it.”  In that vein.  It’s playful teasing.  It’s fun.  And harmless . . . or so I thought.  See, because even though we speak in code or in pun, I mean what I said.  At least in so far as I am attracted to him.  And I’ve been taking his reciprocity as an indication that maybe he does as well.  But now I don’t believe that he does.  And that hurts.

See, Sunday evening, after we all left the coworker’s apartment, and after we all had a bit to drink, well I got a bit too honest—I suppose—and basically laid it out there and told Drunk Texter of my attraction to him.  Of course, he knew this already since we drunk texted months earlier—hence his name.  This time my truth-telling occurred while he and I were stuck waiting in line to get into the club.  As we were all headed into the club, he got stopped by the police for having an open container.  Like a fool, I stayed behind with him as the police wrote up his summons.  Because I’m a lawyer, right?  And then, because we got in late, we had to pay a cover charge.  So it cost me as well.

The club was alright.  Frankly I enjoyed the beginning and end of the night more, the time spent at my coworker’s apartment; everyone was relaxed and laid-back whereas at the club they put on their airs.  Apropos, at some point at the club, Drunk Texter let me know that I have competition.  Another guy, who also works as an usher at the theatre, is also interested in him.  He feigned annoyance and asked why we had to put him in this situation, making him choose between us.  I honestly don’t think he’s interested in either of us.  He’s just not that into us.  Instead, he’s an attention whore.  I’m seeing that now.

This morning, instead of Hawking, I took tickets.  And didn’t get my flirting fix.  Well, not until an hour or so later than if I had hawked.  We talked, flirted, teased.  And again I was led to water but not allowed to drink.  He told me that my competitor thought that I had been angry with him, supposedly for also liking Drunk Texter.  I found it hilarious.  I can’t think of the last time I was involved in such silly adolescent dramas.  At least the conversation opened the door to discussing Sunday evening, something he and I hadn’t done all week, even though I had offered a bit of legal guidance as to his summons.  But as he and I talked, it got me thinking about his antics and I started to deconstruct his hold is on me.  See he’s part of the hesitation I referenced in Decisions, Decisions.

I don’t understand sexual attraction; the hold it can have over us.  Clearly it clouds judgment.  I really don’t even know this guy and yet some corner of my heart is apprehensive about accepting an offer (that I haven’t received yet) because it would take me away from New York and thereby definitely end any chance he and I might have.  Too many nights I’ve hung around the theatre, hoping to spend time with him, wondering if this will be the night he sees my worth and welcomes me into his arms.  I hasn’t happened yet.  And instead I’ve sacrificed hours at the contract attorney position and lost money.

I need to shake this puppy love off my tail because it’s hindering my efforts and hurting my pride.

Written by Laid-off Lawyer

March 6, 2010 at 23:01

One Response

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  1. Good Lord Laid-Off!! How many times have I told you that NO ONE, NO ONE, NO ONE is worth wasting your time over. I’m telling you from experience. I know you are young and blood is hot. It was for me too. I wasted SO much time over puppy love and holding onto romantic notions – so many years of my precious youth wasted, wondering, dreaming, idolizing – only to find out later people I was putting on a sexual or moral pedestal were mere mortals. Often very silly and VERY ordinary – much more so than me. I know they say part of being young is to go through this…I suppose it makes one vulnerable or whatever. But if I were to do it again I would listen to my mother, bypass all this bullshit, and games and drama, and concentrate on making money and having financial stability. Because of love and silly notions I didn’t do that earlier and now find myself on the way to being a homeless woman!! Who won’t even be able to afford plastic surgery as she gets older!!

    Ladybug

    March 10, 2010 at 19:56


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