Tuesday, March 29, 2011
How to work with your Beyonce* on purpose
A few notes from my first week of sleeping with a coworker (ha.)
It took me several months to feel like I could be myself here, but Nick unabashedly leads with his...Nickness. The first day he wore a tie, as the guy favors a Mod affect to his dress (see: flat cap, above). This earned him instant derision from the male members of the staff, given the dress code here is decidedly relaxed. Despite being "tie guy", Nick has gone on to wear a tie each time he comes in. Any ribbing is made up in that he put out a giant bowl of candy on his desk, which it turns out will gain you 25 best friends right away. I'm not joking.
Everyone here refers to Nick as my husband, not to be cute, but just like they can't be bothered to make a distinction. You know, I much prefer it to that flowery f-word, so I guess this will help me get used to being boyfriendless come September.
Friday as we were driving home from work, Nick was excitedly going on and on about programmatic outcomes to me and I just snapped. I sharply exhaled and said "Can we. Not. Talk about Workplace. Just. Until the end of the day." I spent the rest of the weekend feeling like maybe all of this was a mistake. After all, Workplace was my special thing that I did, that I explained over dinner. Now what did I have? Funeral Home Yoga?
But. I keep a lot of things indefinitely to myself because they seem boring and require too much expository information. Then, further along, said thing confuses or excites or troubles me and I want to bend a friend's ear about it but feel exhausted by the Sisyphean task of catching them up. Thus, small thorn in my side becomes Big Lonely Problem of my own design! Having a partner who knows my workday has been a comfort this week. It's no longer like describing three entire seasons of a television show he's never watched. Monday we picked up lunch at the local food co-op near the office and kissed at stoplights like teenagers. (If you have spent much time on this blog, you know that my work week lunches are typically somber periods of isolation and reflection, spent next to a really really loud generator.)
*Brigit has started calling Nick my "Beyonce", possibly to poke fun at my mild distaste for the word "fiance", and also because I misheard her and thought she really called him that.