It wasn’t even a dark and stormy night– it was just the night we were supposed to eat whatever Hello Fresh meal we’d replaced with picheezitsa earlier in the week. But by the time Alex got home I was waiting in the doorway, ready to pounce and writhing with desire because there was only one thing I wanted in that moment:
Uniekass Robusto gouda from Whole Foods.
I’ll skip the next 25 minutes of seemingly inconsequential decisions– turning right on red, tying my shoe, pausing for a sneeze– but the evidence shows clear malicious intent on the part of the universe, because within five paces of entering Whole Foods I locked eyes on none other than My (former) Asshole Boss.
I stopped dead in my tracks and bent my knees as though I could suddenly be like “adios, bitches!” then sprout wings, blast through the ceiling, and soar to freedom.
But he’d already spotted me. I was in his thrall and like a heat seeking missile he headed straight for us. And we all know why. Because this was the moment he’d been waiting for and the opportunity to have what he’d asked for a thousand times. He was finally going to meet the object of his obsession.
Everything went slo-mo. Clouds covered the moon and birds stopped singing as I looked at Alex with terror, telepathically communicating a single word: “RUN”
But it was too late. My (former) Asshole Boss sauntered over with a huge grin on his face and held his hand out to Alex.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
Except he hasn’t. I don’t talk about my personal life at work– especially not with my bosses. This was always a source of professional tension because apparently I’m the only married woman in the entire world who doesn’t complain about her husband. And why would I, when Alex is clearly a god among men? He doesn’t pander (one of my least favorite human qualities) or make any effort to disguise his disinterest in foul humans, which meant he stood there with the most “die in a fire” facial expression I’ve ever seen. His body was angled so far in the opposite direction that he almost looked double jointed.
But My (former) Asshole Boss was never one to pick up on social cues. Here’s what anyone with a soul would’ve realized: It’s Friday night, I’m wearing a hoodie that unsuccessfully conceals my lack of a bra, and all I want to do is spend $45 on cheese so I can go home to my couch. [Read more…]
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