The work shag
I expect that you will be anticipating a big instalment here about what a huge mistake this whole thing was – you would be wrong. The sex was great and at times it was the best thing for me at the time, but I am happy to confirm that there are elements of this whole saga that I will say were a mistake, predominantly the drinking and texting, even worse the drinking and erotic texting….shame shame shame…..

So after the first post-break-up sex which I will write about some other Friday afternoon, it would be fair to say that there was a bit of time between drinks, well, too much drinking and not so much picking up and shagging, and I became a little, well, hung-over and strung out.

Work for me at this time was beyond bad. It was shocking. I had a great manager and the place was brimming with friends, most of whom had also broken up from marriages and long term relationships around the safe time as me so we were all able to go to the pub every night (and I mean EVERY night) and watch each other smoke ourselves into early emphysema and cry into our gin or beers. But during the day it was just bad at work.

In short I had worked my arse off for the few years before this time getting a bunch of really ace projects and programs going around the state but was battling a very serious personality clash with my Director at the time, and what I mean by that is that I have a great personality and his is pure evil shit – therefore there was a clash.

So I was basically instructed to “cool my heals” for about six months after causing a few political issues – which essentially meant, warm a seat until your contract is over or we can figure out where to put you where you will be a bit more…..well quiet!

So whilst having a conversation with my manager one day after once again turning the regular staff meeting into somewhat of a circus he pointed out ever so kindly that my attitude may be a little “off” at the moment and could he possibly suggest that I make myself feel better with a new pair of shoes or perhaps some earrings….I explained that I had done little else but shop for weeks now and that the ability for “things” to fill the emotional crater which had taken residence in my soul was starting to dwindle, to which he responded that I really did need to have sex, and if it needed to be put in my Performance Development Plan then he would do so, but that I really good night of fucking as according to him this was what I was needing. I think he may have been right.

I need to point out at this time that he was in no was in no way offering himself for the role of “pleasure king” as he is not into women, in fact I think I recall on evening when he said he would rather fuck a dog than have sex with a woman – and I believe him.
So he asked me what the level of interest and what my situation had been like, to which I tried to explain that I had not been nourished by much else except for wine, gin, menthol ciggies and the occasional sushi roll for many months and could be regularly spotted crying in pub places, vomiting on myself from time to time and being tossed out of some of Melbourne’s dodgiest establishments, including Hosies one night the bloke on the door suggested it was time for me to go home – hell, that joint is a strip club! They don’t have a pricing arrangement for women there because I am probably the only chick in Melbourne who has been there! I think it would be fair to say that I was not really looking like a very attractive option for even the most desperate and sexually depraved men of this fine town.

So my caring and considerate manager suggested that he might try to set me up, and asked me had I seen anyone around the traps that I liked and this was he could establish what I “liked”. I mentioned that I have been perving on and lusting after the bloke he was talking to in the lift this morning, I have no idea what his name is, where he works, who he is or what his relationship status is but I liked everything I saw.

My manager thought this was quite funny and said that he could have that sorted in NO TIME! He is single, very single I was told, he works in Regional Development. He ran happily down the stairs to level 33 and came back soon after with a smile from ear to ear announcing that he was also extremely interested in me, thought I was married, is happy to hear that stint in my life is over and that he would be joining us for morning tea, and gave very clear instructions that I was to ‘go and do something with that hair and put on some bloody lipstick!’.

The “meeting” was very uncomfortable and weird but he was hot. More than 6 feet tall, Italian and dressed to kill. I followed up with an email saying that I was very sorry that my manager had put him in this situation and that there were certainly no hard feelings if he was not interested. He replied that it was quite the opposite and within a few emails exchange I had half of my office crowding around helping my exchange some of the most sexually explicit literature I have ever read, of course he probably just thought I was sitting on my own typing out lines about things I have only ever heard of much less partaken in, but little did he know I worked with some of the dirtiest minds alive at that time and had their knowledge at my disposal.

The follow Friday night we met for a drink, although, he didn’t drink……I should have listened to my sister and friends when they all proclaimed that the relationship was doomed if I was going to drink and he was going to sit there sober, but I went along after squeezing in about 8 wines and a pack of fags.

I got to the venue and slammed down a gin and snuck into the loo and enjoyed a smoke. Chatted to some chicks who said they could tell I was on a date but observed that he was actually more nervous than me. This was comforting to hear!

It would be fair to say that it was a very ordinary date. He was hard to speak to and although we got along really really well we were both kind of aggressive and defensive and there was no flow at all of conversation, it was actually more like taking pot shots at each other and trying to be the biggest smart arse. I kind of respected this because without blowing my own horn, most men that I meet are not very smart and I liked that he was smart, almost as smart as me, and witty – almost as witty as me! Ha! But I said I was over it after a while, hoping once again to shatter a bit more of his male ego and said I was off, he said he would walk me home. On the way we passed another pub and he suggested that perhaps he might like to have a gin and menthol with me by the open fire in the pub and see if we could at least salvage what was left of the evening. I agreed. Within an hour we were fucking like mad and we did that until the next morning when my dad knocked on the front door for our regular Saturday brunch.

It was the best sex of my life there is absolutely no denying that, and I was concerned that I might be addicted. I was smiling and nothing could stop me!

Monday morning I skipped into work past my managers desk who advised me that he had seen my partner in crime earlier for a coffee and he seemed to be in a similar state and that he was glad that his theory that “cock solves all problems” was able to remain intact.