I noticed him one day at work. He was a little older than me, maybe 30. He had blond hair, kind of long, pushed to one side, and was baby faced. But we didn't work in the same department, so it was only rarely that I did see him. And I had no idea who he was, or even what he did.
Until one afternoon when there was a knock on my cube and he was standing there in khakis and a blue striped button-down shirt. The corporate casual uniform. He said hello and gave me this nervous, shy smile. He had an envelope for me. I smiled back and took it. It was a business matter.
I saw him more after that, or, maybe I noticed him more after that. By an elevator, talking to someone, leaving or going to the break room. At first we didn't acknowledge each other. We'd only met once. Why should we remember? But we both did. He was the one to break the relative stand-off. He saw me, we made eye contact, and he smiled. I smiled back.
Then we started talking. He was very good at small talk. He could see me, see something else, maybe a folder, nothing more than that, and start a conversation with me about it. And he could make me laugh. Every time. A comment about a pen or pencil on my desk would last five minutes, feel like thirty seconds and end with me looking at him through giggle drunk eyes.
But he was married. I saw the ring, I knew. That didn't stop me from looking as he'd walk away. 6'0", slender, but not completely toned. A little doughy. A blue collar butt. A guy that probably enjoyed a few beers, maybe an appetizer, but would run the next morning before his wife got out of bed. He only mentioned her once.
We were at a happy hour. He'd been talking to others, co-workers I didn't know. And it wasn't until around 7 that he finally picked me out, though we'd noticed each other, smiled. It was another short conversation, jokes about co-workers, work functions, and the drudgery of it all. He had this way of getting to something funny, and then every line after that was the punch line in one long joke. But he had to go. His wife was waiting.
We were friends after that. We spoke more often. He'd tell me what he'd done over the weekend, and I'd share as well. We never went to lunch, we were never alone like that. No "dates." And I was glad. I was always noticing the hetero couples that would occasionally go to lunch together at work, maybe get back a little late. It was tacky, I thought. But what do I know about tacky?
That Fall our company had a large gathering. A sort of casual, 6-10 p.m., appetizers and drinks "thank you" event. It was at an event space that was part of a newer hotel, restaurant, entertainment district in a "revitalized" downtown area. The space was essentially the gutted tenth floor of an old corporate headquarters, concrete floors, exposed duct work. He was there.
