Hobocamp

So after my last post, a star in somebody else's sky very astutely noted that because I said I hadn't slept with any coworkers yet, things must not have really worked out with my latest work crush (who I sirened into asking me out about a month ago).

A star in somebody else's sky? You got it. We did not end up getting married like I'd imagined. And here is why.

So, after our initial moderately successful coffee, we made a date to for drinks after work later that week. We had decided to go to the Bohemian Hall and Beergarden in Astoria. Though I absolutely love this place, it was not I who suggested it. He is a recent addition to the city and had heard tell of a magical outdoor bar with a huge backyard and lots of imports on tap. He wanted to try it, and I was happy to oblige. He lives near the hospital so coming out to the beergarden would necessitate about a 20 min. train ride (also known as the commute I make every day). The day before our date, I was in an office updating some charts when he came in and awkwardly started massaging my shoulders.

"Hey, girrrrl. How you doin'? You lookin' goooood toDAY." he said.

I was startled because this is absolutely not how he spoke normally. And I did not look goooood toDAY. I looked tiiiiiired toDAY. People had already told me so. And I had sat in Wite-Out earlier. Twice.

Plus I felt weird with him rubbing my shoulders like that as patients and attending physicians (read: OUR BOSSES) were milling about.

I got up and pretended to copy something across the room so he'd stop touching me, and as I was walking away I said "Hey. What's up?"

"Not much, not much. So, tomorrow, right? You and me. Out on the town."

"That's the plan, as I understand it."

"Good, good. So, listen girl. I gotta come ALL the way out to Astoria? Shoot. That is FAR. Why don't you come in here?"

I was immediately annoyed. "It's too far? Don't put yourself out on my account."

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I'm just saying. It's far. You could could take the train here to the city and we could go out."

Really? Nothing could make a girl feel more special.

"Look, the train ride, interestingly enough, is the same length whether you're coming or going. So it's going to be a twenty minute trip for you or a twenty minute trip for me. And you were the one who picked the beergarden. If your schedule has changed and you can't accommodate that, no big deal. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"See, I couldn't do that. I couldn't take the train that late at night. You know, because I get mobbed by the LADIES."

And I'm out. Check please.

At this point, I had become so very disenchanted. I still had some work to do at that office, but more than anything I wanted to flee to my desk and call all of my very best friends to explain how horrifyingly wrong my first, second, and third impressions of this guy had been. Instead, I had to stay and finish charts, which was crueler than cruel. So I resigned myself to seeing how big of an ass I could coax this guy to be.

"Oh sure. The ladies. I understand. You probably have to deal with that a lot. Especially at night. The night time ladies are super ferocious. Fight them off with sticks, is probably what you have to do."

"Yeah! Yeah. I get that-- whatsitcalled- that, that MACE. I MACE them."

"Right in the face!"

"Yeah! Then I kick them between the legs!"

Wow. CheckMATE.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love the following things as much as anyone else:

1) Inappropriate work humor
2) Sudden Outburst Syndrome
3) Facetiousness
4) A good kick to the crotch

But he had said it so loudly and with such vehemence that both patients and doctors looked in our direction. I was beet red.

I said "That's truly the hottest thing I've ever heard, but I have to run. Talk to you later."

"I'm funna call you, girrrrrl!" he called after me.

"I'm funna screen," I said to myself.

Which I did. He called me later, I screened, called him back when I knew he wouldn't be available, and left a message with my excuses.

I thought that was that, but then his boss (one of the super important attendings/directors at work) called me into his office to have tea with him. He does this sometimes, because he's paternal and sweet and we're friends. He likes me way more than my own dad does. So I was happy for the break in the day. When I sat down though, he said "So, (crotch kicker) said that you wouldn't go out with him last week. Why is that? He's such a good man. He said you made up an excuse."

"He TATTLED ON ME??"

"No, no. Not tattled. He just was concerned. I reassured him that this wasn't like you, and that if he asked you out again, you would go."

"What? Why did you do that? Dr. ____, that's not fair."

"You deserve a nice man!"

"He's not nice, Dr ____."

Dr _____'s face changed. "Did he do something to you? YOU TELL ME."

"Jesus, no. He didn't. I'm just saying. He was...nothing. Nothing happened."

"Good! Then you'll go to dinner."

I sighed and faked getting paged. I'm sure that old Kick 'Em In the Girl Nads will come find me soon. I need a stiff drink to prepare.

And a jock strap.