Office Space

Office Space

January 10, 2008, 1:13 am
Filed under: dating, NYC

The days immediately following the Red Sox World Series victory are still a bit of a blur. Too much alcohol, too little sleep, and a whirlwind trip to Boston for the victory parade all contributed to me no longer knowing what day it was. So when I met MBB (the name will make more sense later) I was completely shocked that he asked for my number, never mind that he actually used it.

But after meeting me at my absolute worst (read: on no sleep, fresh off the sox parade, slightly buzzed and looking like hell on an Amtrak train) he did, in fact, call. While on the train I had found out that he was 32, lived in midtown, and was a former marine. He was now the part-owner of his own company and had a pair of eyes that could seriously melt a girl. When he planned our first date as dinner and drinks at a sports bar before sitting in tenth row seats to a Knicks game I was pretty much sold.

Ok, so there were a few red flags. I wasn’t a fan of the fact that he’d never gone to college. I was worried the marine thing would put him staunchly on the right hand side of the political line. And who lives in midtown? But you know what? I was having a damn good time with this guy, and all of those things I had been worried about turned out to be totally unfounded.

And then he dropped the bomb. The “I’m divorced and have two kids” bomb. This came on about our 5th or 6th date. We had had dozens of long conversations on the phone. I was really starting to like this guy. But an ex-wife? TWO KIDS? But again, after a long conversation about it I decided, you know what? I’m having a damn good time with this guy. So we continue dating.

Flash forward: MBB and I have now been dating for about a month and a half. And we haven’t hooked up once. Oh, sure, we’ve made out like bandits on random street corners, but that’s as far as it’s gotten. I realize that I’m the first girl he’s really dated since his ex-wife, but damn! So one night we meet up. We get outrageously drunk. I decide that this is absolutely the night that I am getting laid.

It is now 5:30 in the morning and we have just exited what feels like the tenth bar of the night. He looks at me and says “Do you want to stay in midtown tonight.” After telling him that it is no longer “tonight” I say yes. What I really want to say is “Do you honestly think that wasn’t my intention? We’ve been molesting each other in public for hours now”. I restrain myself. Barely.

As we walk into his building the following conversation ensues:
MBB: You are finally going to see where I live.
KIM: Yeah I am excited.
MBB: Me too.
KIM: It kind of looks like an office building.
MBB: Well, it kinda is.

This should have been my first clue that this was not going to go the way I had hoped.

As the elevator doors open we are deposited into a reception area. The logo of MBB’s company is hanging on the wall above the front desk. MBB takes my hand and gives me a quick tour. As we wander through the cubicles it still hasn’t hit me yet. I’m wasted, I just don’t get it.

Then we reach an office in the back corner. Like my office, the wall that faces the hallway is floor to ceiling glass. Unlike my office, this glass is blacked out somehow.

MBB takes out his keys and unlocks the door. I am now just flat out confused. What are we doing here? MBB steps inside the office. The door is only half open. And then I see why.

There is a Murphy Bed unfolded from the wall blocking the door.

That’s when it hits me.

This is where Murphy Bed Boy (MBB) lives!

Inside the room there is just the Murphy Bed, a dresser with a TV, cable box, tivo, and playstation, and an odd compartmentalized closet type thing. This should bother me more than it does. But the minute his lips touch mine I forget where I am. The copiuos amounts of liquor probably had something to do with it too.

Then, suddenly, it’s morning. Or, more accurately, later in the morning than it was when we fell asleep. Now hundreds of questions are running through my head. The most important of which are the immediate ones. Where in the world is the women’s room, and IS THERE GOING TO BE SOMEONE WORKING IN THE CUBICLE OUTSIDE THE DOOR!

I wake MBB to ask these questions and realize that the reason I am freezing is that they turn the heat off in office buildings on weekends. After a thousand assurances that no one will be outside, i quickly dress and head towards the women’s room. Two things happen here. 1. I find mens shaving gel next to the sink. 2. I hear someone moving around outside and almost die of a heart attack. I imagine exiting the bathroom and running into one of MBBs coworkers. What would I say? “Uh, hi, I’m Kim. I’m just visiting MBB … at 10am on a Sunday morning. With bed head. And his shirt on. Nice meeting you!”

I basically run back to MBBs, I don’t even know what you call it, his room? and find it empty meaning that whatever I heard before was him. I breathe a sign of relief. It’s a quick one because I then find my own shirt and have my coat on before he returns.

He tries to convince me to stay and watch football. Not once has he made any mention of the fact that we are in the middle of his office. He’s acting like this is totally normal!

Me? I bolt as fast as my aching, heeled, walk of shame feet can carry me.

Only in New York, folks. Only in New York.

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