Today was actually no problem at all. Well, until we went to the pub at dinner. Luckily for me I could only stay for half an hour before I needed to catch my bus to work, but on the eyes that place is easy with a capital E... I mean talk about hotties! I go into the library quite often (believe it or not) and see so many hot student guys talking with friends or working away, and always wonder what they study and where they hang out, because not one of the guys on my course are hot, and the only ones I meet on nights out are creepy good-for-one-things. Well now I know; they dwindle the hours away playing foosball and snooker in The Brookhouse, our local student pub. And if I hadn't been sober I'd most definitely have started up a conversation with one or two (or nine) of them. But I guess that means I'd have also slurred about my ex and shown them my Beyonce-esque moves, so it's probably a good job that I was again drinking my alcohol-free beverage of choice; good old faithful diet coke.
So I fled temptation and got my bus to work as planned. I even managed to muster up a smile when I saw my dreamy colleague stood behind the bar; I had asked him only the week before what we were, because the constant texting and flirting and the proceeding to tell me about his latest conquests were a little confusing, and he had replied with the classic "well I've recently come out of a relationship so I'm not really looking for anything, so it's up to you what you decide", to which I reluctantly replied with the old "well lets just be friends, we do have to work together after-all". So now we were being friends, who act friendly and chat about friendly things. Urgh I hated it, but wasn't going to let him know that so continued to smile politely when I saw him and cheerily (maybe a little too cheerily, bastard) said hello.
Work turned out to be OK in the end, and I realised I did really get on well with Dreamy as a friend, however I could never seem to fully shake the thought of him pinning me against the bar and hitching me skirt up. Bad person I may be, but self controlled I was becoming... on the outside anyway. And when 10pm arrived I pulled up a chair for a post-work beverage, as usual, and then proceeded to order a lemonade and lime. And they laughed. My 'work-buddies' laugh so much, I got a little pissed at them. After all, these people had only known me since I had started there 6 weeks ago, and had already got such an accurate opinion of me; slutty drinker. I didn't cave though, and left with my head held high and my back straight (that way Dreamy would see my bum at it's best).
When I lay in bed later that night I considered how easily an opinion can form. Look at my reputation at work; in just six short weeks I had been in a relationship, slept with a colleague, been through a break up and turned up to work hungover for at least 90% of my shifts. Fair enough they didn't know about me and Dreamy, as he didn't want his skinny, blonde ex finding out, and neither did I (I suppose) but they had a good idea that I liked men. Lots of men. If they had already formed such a well-rounded picture of me and my life, what had others picked up on? And more importantly, how long would it take to change these opinions?
I'm guessing a lot longer than two weeks.
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