Shocking Sighting

I hit the mall with Jill today. Grocery shopping. My roommate had wiped out my canned tuna stash, and I didn’t want to be caught without food whenever I’m too tired to go out and buy dinner.

We were lining up at the check-out counter when I saw a familiar face. Marcus! My heart jumped.

“That’s him!” I poked Jill on the ribs, my heart pounding.

“Where? The one with the girl?” Jill craned her neck.

“What girl?” Incredulous, I whipped my head towards where he was strolling just meters away from us—and true enough, he was with a girl. She was holding his…elbow.

“Sino ‘yun?” I was too shocked to think clearly. I wanted to run. Hide. Be swallowed by the earth.

But then I had to pay the cashier first. I handed over the money, and by the time I had gathered my groceries, they were out of our sight.

Okay that was it. Now I know. So maybe we are just friends.

Was I doomed to be hurt all over again?

Shocking Slip

Piping hot lattes and a piece of cheesecake. Sounds heavenly, right? Hay, if only our convo today was as sweet:

“So, how have you been?” Marcus asked. We were in a cozy corner of a newly-opened café near our office.

“Oh, alam mo na,” I shrugged my shoulders. “The usual stress.” No point in regaling him with horror stories of Ms. Slavedriver.

“Well, my friends are setting me up,” he began. I nearly choked on my coffee. Set up? Did I hear that right?

“What, as in a b-blind date?” I tried hard to keep from stammering. Aghast, I waited for his reply with baited breath.

“Guess you could call it that,” he said with a smile and an embarrassed, nervous laugh.

“Well, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I said quickly. Gosh, did I just say that? Ang obvious ’ata na affected!

“Oh, well, I guess I should try it,” It was his turn to shrug. But he was looking at me curiously. “I should—no one wants to go out on a date with me anyway!”

“Ako.” It was out before I caught myself. “I’d go out with you.”

“Ha?” Surprise, shock, embarrassment—I didn’t know which of the three was the most apparent on Marcus’s face.

“Marcus! C.!” Before he could say anymore, Ms. Slavedriver was there. “Can I share table? Okey lang? This café’s getting so crowded!” Without waiting for an answer, she wedged herself between us. I felt like I could strangle her ’til she turned blue.

The moment was lost, of course. We ended up talking about what else—work. The question: What does Marcus think of me now?

Drunken Text (Or Close Call)

Ms. Slavedriver was driving me nuts with her OC ways. Had to go out for a drink with Jill after work to de-stress.

Note to self: When going on a weekday girls’ night out, hand over your cellphone to your best friend.

When you’re currently mooning over a boy and planning to have margaritas all night with your best friend, you’re most likely to end up with a long-winded drunken text, or worse, a drunken call.

Of course, I didn’t follow my own rules. By the third margarita, I had whipped out my cellphone and was furiously composing text messages to Marcus—all of which included lusty proposals and frustrated rants about my attraction to him.
Jill was smart enough to sense who I was texting. “Give me that!” She made a lunge for my cellphone—and in one swoop, managed to grab it from me before I hit the Send button.

The next morning, I scrolled over to my cell phone’s my Drafts folder and found this:

“Marcus, all I think about is YOU, YOU, YOU. Aren’t you attracted to ME at ALL???”

I nearly had a heart attack. I checked my Sent folder. It wasn’t sent to him. Thank goodness for best friends!

Labo Lessons

Got out of the office so late. I can’t believe I let Ms. Slavedriver bully me into doing more work again today! To make things worse, Marcus is still blowing hot and cold. “Hey miss u na. Loaded w/ wrk! Got so many marketing deadlines to meet.”

Did I read that right—”Miss you na”? But honestly, it was one of those vague text messages. Again. Besides, how was I supposed to reply to that? Was it an apology for not seeing me—or was he just venting about work?

After about seven drafts, the text I sent him was: “Hey miss you too! Good luck w/ wrk. Hope u get a lot done.”

I thought about that message for 15 long minutes, edited it for another 15, and stared at it for three more minutes before finally hitting the send button. Hah! I am so desperate about not sounding desperate.

Then, wonder of all wonders, I bumped into him at the gym, and he impulsively (I think) mentioned something about getting together next week.

I am going out of my mind. Until now, I’m still not sure just what we are. Friends? Close Friends? ‘Yun lang?

Maybe I’m in denial. Maybe I should make a move. Dyahe! Besides, I don’t know what to do or say. But then again, that’s something to think about.

Naughty Daydream

The story so far: C. finds herself being bullied at work by an extremely go-getting officemate. Can she step up and assert herself? Plus, Marcus is still a friend—and nothing else. Will she just be content with her daydreams or push her luck and speak out—in the hopes of turning their friendship into something romantic?

Whenever I’m stressed, I inevitably find myself in daydream mode. Today, I had to work with people from a different department (Hello, Ms. Slavedriver!) and it got so toxic, all I did was indulge in daydreams the moment I got back to my desk.

Here’s my Marcus Daydream Number One: We are in one of our friendly coffee breaks (It never hurts to be kinda realistic, right?). Marcus puts down his cup and looks at me intensely. Then he sits very, very close and sort of half-whispers, “C., I’ve been meaning to tell you something all this time…” You get the drift.

Marcus Daydream Number Two: We bump into each other in the office hallway one evening after work. We lock gazes. Then, he grabs me without a word—and pulls me into a storeroom for a hot, steamy romp.

Wake up to real life: I realize that we haven’t had coffee in more than a week. Sigh.