In Which I Believe I've Been Propositioned, Part 1

Office workers everywhere can attest to the Monday morning ritual of How was your weekend, Bill? Did you have a good weekend Mary? It's part of the office Daily Digest and is uttered and endured with little to no thought.

Except- when it isn't.

I dressed this morning (Monday morning, to clarify) in a silky, turquoise pull-over blouse that has a plunged neck-line and gathers from four corners into a knot of fabric right between my breasts. This will be important momentarily.

I arrived at work early and found that my area was empty apart from my cube-mate; a guy who normally arrives many hours later than I. Since it's an oddity to see him so early, and since he and I usually have very little time to talk as friends, I sat down and begun the Daily Digest: "You're here early. How was your weekend?"

"Oh, fine" he said (par for the course). "How was yours?"

"By turns shitty and delightful", I said, casting aside the bland response of fine.

He gave me the look that I've come to know as meaning he is interested but is refraining from directly inquiring for politeness. I laughed.

While I began telling him that I've recently begun misadventures in dating, I stood to take off my coat and hang it up. I remained standing, describing the recent regrettable dates I've been on while Guy chimes in with "Ah, yes..." and "Mm-hmm...".

He settles in to respond, but before he's gotten two words into his thought he stops, as if struck with a newer, shinier thought, and says, "That shirt looks really good on you" (I smile and mummer thanks) and he nods in assurance. "It uh- really accentuates, uh-" and chokes off the rest of that thought with slightly wide eyes, an awkward smile, and noncommittal hand gestures in the upper torso area.

I suddenly become hyper-aware of the thin polyester that I've chosen to cover my body today. I bite my own cheek and do the faint breath-laugh of the embarrassed. I sit down and allow the cube wall to hide said accentuation.

We continue our conversation.

He is also single and he tells me that he shares my impatience for weeding out the immature, the neurotic, the unenlightened.

"Why am I even doing this?" I ask, rhetorically.

"Because you have certain needs and you find that dating is the way to satisfying these needs", he says, just a little too quickly. I nod and display my Consideration Eyebrows.

"There is an easier way, though, you know?" He lays this question down in a style reminiscent of bribes being slid across tables.

"Um..." I'm not sure if I do, actually.

He scoots his chair a little closer to the wall, so as not to be overheard. "Do you know what swinging is?"

*blinkblink*

Yes. Yes I do.

(That's right! It's a two-part story! Tune in tomorrow kids to hear the conclusion of Monday's proposition.)