Prologue: Drunk in the Street

I sat at my desk and thought about how bored I was. I mean I’m 39, divorced, single mom, successful job and bored. Is that right? Is this how I’m supposed to live my life? I don’t think so. So maybe that’s why I was about to post an ad on the Internet looking for a date.

I turned over the pad of paper and stood up from my chair. I smoothed my pants. I fluffed my hair. Coffee, I thought. I’ll get some coffee. I picked up my mug: Mickey Mouse. Nothing like getting all jacked up on caffeine and then trying to find an date online.

I walked past my administrative assistant, who today is wearing the most inappropriate outfit to date. A red t-shirt that is probably a size or two too small with some sort of black bra that you can see peeking out above the plunging neckline. Her skirt, which I saw earlier as she came in, is the don’t-bend-over kind. And the shoes. Jesus, can women really walk in those? The way she presents herself is such a contrast from my own baggy khakis, thick belt, olive green sweater and Dansko clogs. I could be out walking on the beach with my dog and a cup of tea. I look like a model straight out of an Eddie Bauer catalog. That I’ve progressed this far in the corporate world is amazing, if you base my qualifications on my wardrobe. Or the amount of make up I wear, which is none. I hadn’t really changed my style since I was married. Should I change the way I dress and maybe put on some lipstick? I mean, isn’t that the joy of being older? You don’t have to worry about what you look like? But, I guess if Dina were older, she’d always look this way because it’s in her blood. She probably wouldn’t leave the house to run to the store if she didn’t look like woman ready to have sex at any moment. Maybe that’s my problem? I don’t care what I look like any more.

I stopped in front of her desk. “Can I get you some coffee, Dina?” Even I couldn’t keep my eyes of those breasts. Maybe I should become a lesbian?

“No thanks, Gretchen,” Dina said, taking one very long finger with a very red fingernail and pushing a very blonde lock of hair out of her eyes. “Peter just called though. He wants to meet with you later.” She raised her eyebrow at me. I smiled and mentally reminded myself to talk to her about her outfit. I wasn’t sure if talking to her was because I was sort of jealous or because her outfits really aren’t appropriate for this type of environment.

Ah, the break room. How many times have I stood in this stark, windowless room, toasting a bagel, filling a water bottle, getting coffee or standing in front of the vending machine dreaming about pop tarts that cost 95 cents? Great place to procrastinate, the break room. No one was there for the moment. I took my Mickey Mouse mug and put it under the coffee spout and pushed the spigot. The coffee streamed out of the canister. I love the smell, I thought as I took a big whiff.

“Practicing your deep breathing?” A male voice with an English accent said behind me.

I let my finger off the coffee spigot and turned around. Klaus. Yes, his name is really Klaus, and although slightly overweight and very soft, he has the face of an angel, the accent of a British rock star from the 80s, and every woman in the building has a huge crush on him. Doesn’t matter if he’s married, or that some of us are married. We want him. Badly.

“I have a question for you, Gretchen,” he said. “A question that might justify your deep breathing.”

“Shoot.” I said, bracing myself.

“I just talked to QA and they need more time to finish that last feature that Scott wanted in the release. It means we will have to push out the date and probably have to work some weekends. I am not sure I can get upper management to agree to the date change, but I do think we need the feature.”

I stared at him. How can a woman go from the personals on Craig’s List to delivering cutting edge technology on a silly corporate schedule? “I’ll need to talk to Peter and see what he thinks. Can I get back to you on Monday?” I wondered if this was what he wanted to talk to me about.

“Yep,” Klaus said. “But make sure it is first thing on Monday.” He grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and walked out of the door. How do these guys know where to find me during the last hour of work on Friday? Is my procrastination in the break room that obvious? Do they ever want me to enjoy my weekend? I walked back to my desk. Dina was on the phone talking about some bar she was going to for Cinco de Mayo. I smiled at her. She smiled at me and kept talking. Dang, I thought, I am one cool boss. Keep that shirt on, I thought, and it will be quite a night for you, little Dina.

I sat back down at my desk. I took a sip of my coffee and turned my pad of paper over. I quickly wrote, “Sexy, charming, witty, intelligent, some what bored, yet woman seeks man to exchange intellectual banter.” Perfect. No one needs to know I’m really “potentially” sexy, or “I-used-to-be” sexy. I turned to the computer. I moved my cursor to the bookmark menu and pulled up Craig’s List. I thought about selecting Chicago, because that was at least 1000 miles away and I would never meet this person but I sighed and selected my own geographical area clicked a few more times and voila, my ad was posted on Craig’s List.

Dina stood in the doorway. I marveled again how she could walk in those shoes. And how the definition of her quadriceps made a nice line up the middle of her thigh. “You should come out with me one night Gretchen. I know you are a lot older than me, but you might have fun totally letting loose for one night.”

I instantly pasted a smile on my lips. Don’t kill her. Don’t kill her. A lot older? C’mon! Maybe ten years at the most. Is ten years a lot? I don’t even know any more. Am I old? I guess so. “Maybe I should,” I said between stiff lips.

“It would be fun. We’re almost the same size. I could dress you up!”

Yeah, except you are a hard-body and I’ve got pudding under my arms. “That might be nice, Dina. Thank you.” I started to wiggle my mouse so my screen would wake up. Dina still stood in the door.

“Yes?” I said.

“Do you mind if I leave a bit early?”

“No, go ahead. And have fun tonight.” Because I won’t.