Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Candy Shop


Last night I attended a big conference work party. This party was filled with people from my work and convention. I would say the average age was 45 (generously). When I feel uneasy in social situations, I hit the hard A. Last night, I was enjoying many, many greyhounds (vodka and grapefruit) from Richard, the old, kind bartender.

Dancing with coworkers can sometimes be weird. Not bad weird, just weird. You sit in meetings with these people, discuss policy and procedures—work hard to be a professional. And then suddenly, four beers later they are grindin to “Candy Shop.”

Also challenging about work parties would be when you put booze in the nerds. One of our ITS people is a really nice guy. It is a well known fact he has a steady rotation of crushes. His crush on me has been ongoing for about two years. My friend May thought it was hilarious until he started calling her regularly. He also hits on my friend at work Harley.

ITS is completely harmless. However, he had some booze in him and got braver and chatty. There have been times in my life when I was softer hearted and would take pity on this nice nerd. Last night was not one of those times.

It is not his fault that he is socially awful. He probably has never had a girlfriend, still keeps it real with Dungeons and Dragons and most likely talks to his mother daily. We would all be the same way under similar circumstances and genes.

But we’re (I am assuming) not. And, so when ITS comes up to me and May:


May and me: (May and I smile) Hi.
ITS: (at me) Wow, that smile.
Me: (trying not to roll my eyes) Hi.
ITS: So are you all having a blast?
May: Oh yeah, it’s awesome (it wasn’t).
ITS: Yeah, it’s cool.
(silence, awkward, awkward silence. I desperately try to suck any remaining vodka off the ice at the bottom of my cup)
May: Cool, so what’s been going on lately?
ITS: Hey V, want to see my white guy moves? (he wiggles his torso and makes strange face)
Me: (holy shit this is awful) Um, sure. Let’s see them (I gesture for him to dance in front of us).
ITS: (encouraged for lack of understanding) No, no, no, you come out there with me and you get to see them!
Me: (horrified at his off-beat rhythm preview).
(silence, awkward, awkward silence)
Me: Oh that would be cool. (I turn and leave May with ITS, get another greyhound and quickly walk off with visions of him grinding on my leg)

Poor guy. I’m a bitch. He just wanted a grind.

Sigh. Going to the club with the pool, waterbeds and big ol couches tonight. Drink it off.

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