The Virginity Monologues

Remember the guy from the mail room? The H-O-T one? The one with the girlfriend? The one that if plied with enough alcohol, I would definitely consider doing the no-pants-dance with? Well, Saturday night, a co-worker that I am chummy with had a birthday party, at the new hot spot in Union Square. I met another co-worker pre-festivities for dinner and some vodka, and by the time we hit the bar, I was working on a solid buzz. I walked through the door and there he was, the John Wayne of the mail room, minus the girlfriend (he's a cheater, folks). I turned to my gay compatriot (who is very manly and sexy in his own right) and said, "I am in so much trouble." He nodded his head in solemn agreement. More drinking. Some friendly flirting. Remarks about my abundant cleavage (hey, the girls have got to come out sometimes!). Some back rubbing, and lots more alcohol imbibing on my part, to the point where I was the drunkest I have ever been in my whole entire life. Gay friend gone, and me throwing up in the bathroom convinced me that maybe I should head home. I walked through the dancing area and there he was, shaking his booty. He saw me, coat on and heading out, so he made his way over to me. Suddenly his arm was around me, he cheek was pressed up against mine and he was whispering in my ear his concern for my ability to arrive home safely. I have never wanted to suspend time more than I did at that very moment. I wanted to just stand there, cheeks pressed against each other for the rest of eternity. I decided at that moment, that I had discovered heaven- standing there with this man. Did I mention that I am a chicken? And that he has a girlfriend? I assured him I would arrive home safely and left. The ride home seemed to take 2 seconds, as I re-lived our cheek moment over and over again. Except for when I had to get out of the subway to puke. Blegh.

Yesterday, I discovered the true meaning of a best friend. I organized a group of friends to go to a Yankee game together. I LOVE Yankee games. I love baseball, and I love anyone who finds the same joy in baseball that I do. My best friend, had to work late and showed up to the game an hour late, but she had made me posters. Bright pink posters proclaiming our love of Derek Jeter for us to hold up. It was magical. It was my best night of baseball ever. I don't know if he saw them, but for about 2 hours we got to pretend like we were a couple of 15 year old groupies. I didn't even care that the Yankees lost, cause I got to take home my posters, my proof that someone out there knows me, understands me and wants to make my life the best it can be.