#& the next function is literally my grad party like next week : | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Online Dating: A Tale in Six Parts

A couple years ago, I wrote a personal essay for a book project for a friend of a friend. The project leader ultimately rejected my piece because it wasn’t academic enough, to which my response was as follows:

I then promptly forgot about it. But now I’m deciding to publish it here, because why not. So here you go: an autobiographical tale of Pikapeppa’s experiences with online dating. (Please note: this is MY personal experience with online dating as a cis straight woman, and is not meant to be representative of anyone else’s experience but mine, since I can’t knowledgeably comment on that.)

************************

Online Dating: A Tale in Six Parts

Online dating has been widely vilified, especially since so many cis-heterosexual women have such gross experiences with it: unsolicited dick pics, misogynistic insults when you don’t respond immediately, seemingly nice guys who either “ghost” or suddenly become perverts in the blink of a notification.

I’m here to tell a happier story of online dating, and how it restored my faith in my social skills, my confidence in myself - and how I learned a thing or two about relationships along the way.

Part I: Intro

I’m a shy girl.

Let’s be specific. I consider myself an introvert, or an ambivert at a stretch. I have an extremely hard time talking to strangers; I loathe small talk. At parties, my quietness has a direct inverse relationship with the size of the crowd I’m in: the more people there are, the less I say, until I might as well be a piece of furniture in the corner if the party is a big one. I’m most comfortable in small groups of four people max (including myself), and even then, I get uncomfortable if I’m the centre of attention for too long. I generally prefer to listen than to talk. My ideal weekend includes one entire day for recharging at home with just Netflix and my cat for company.

In January 2012, I moved to Montreal for grad school. When I got there, I knew nobody. I’d moved to Montreal wanting a change, as I’d lived in Toronto my whole life. But somehow in my excitement to move, I’d forgotten that a) I had no friends in Montreal and b) I hate talking to strangers and I hate small talk: the two necessary evils of Making Friends. I spent a solid six months by myself, exploring the city in solitude or hanging out in my apartment with my cat, increasingly hating myself for the fact that I had been living in this city for almost a year and still had no friends except for some casual acquaintances whom I’d met at a mingling party for new grad students. I have some embarrassingly angsty journal entries whining about how there must be something wrong with me, because what kind of person can’t make a single friend in six months of living in a new city? I can’t fully express my gratitude that one of my labmates, who was finishing her Master’s degree at the time, took pity on me and invited me out for drinks, eventually becoming my first good friend in Montreal and introducing me to many other amazing women friends.

Eventually I got into my social stride in Montreal. I had friends; I was satisfyingly busy with my graduate work; and I continued to enjoy relaxing with my cat. (I could write a whole chapter devoted to my mental/emotional well-being and my cat, but let’s save that for another time, shall we?) But as my thesis was wrapping up and I started having more free time, I realized that I was ready to add to my social life. I was ready - gasp! - to pursue a romantic relationship.

This was September 2012. By then, I’d been single for about two years, and largely happy without a partner. But aside from being busy with my thesis, there was another significant reason I had not dated anyone in Montreal: I didn’t know how to meet men.

Part II: The foray into online dating

Traditionally, people meet their partners through work, through common interests, or by bumping into them in bars. I wouldn’t be meeting anyone at work because my master’s degree focused on a topic dominated by female academics, so essentially all of my colleagues were women. My interests involved typically homebody activities like movies, reading, and cooking. And my carefully cultivated Resting Bitch Face usually deterred men in bars from approaching me (as well as my pixie haircut, which I purposely got in order to weed out the kind of shallow male who “only likes girls with long hair”.) The graduate community at McGill often had mingling or speed dating events; however, see above regarding my quietness in crowds and hatred of small talk. Long story short, the traditional ways of meeting men were out.

This is where online dating came into the mix. For me, it was a logical and practical choice. I’ve never been interested in casual flings, so I figured that online dating, especially from a paid website, would have a larger number of men who were looking for something more serious. Importantly, online profiles would also provide information about interests and sense of humour, which - praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster! - would mean that small talk could be avoided, since we could talk about common interests. And there was a final reason that online dating appealed to me: I wanted to meet someone whose occupation was NOT at all similar to mine.

Now, this might be a kind of unusual criteria to express for one’s mate. After all, there is a reason that many people meet their partners at work or engaging in common interests: these things provide a common ground for conversation and for connecting. But as much as I enjoyed research and had aspirations to eventually work in healthcare, I didn’t want to date someone who did those things. After all, I had moved to Montreal looking for something new, dammit! I wanted to broaden my horizons. I wanted a partner who could be my Aladdin and show me a Whole New World.

And thus my online dating adventure began.

Part III: The adventure begins

Everyone has different experiences with online dating. I will say this: I found it really fun and interesting. Importantly, it helped me realize that my social skills, in fact, were not total crap. Within two weeks, I’d gone on dates with a handful of nice, normal-seeming men from a variety of professions. Each time, I went home pleased that I’d had a pleasant, functional conversation with a stranger, without the situation devolving into awkward silence due to my inability to talk like a normal human.

The dating experience was also an important confidence booster. When you’ve been single for two years without any hint of interest from the opposite sex, it’s easy to start thinking you’re deficient in some way. With a handful of successful dates under my belt, I was finally starting to believe that my singledom really was circumstance and not social ineptitude. It also reminded me of something else I’d forgotten during the moping self-pity of my first six months in Montreal: given the right circumstances, I actually enjoy flirting. Dates were actually kind of the perfect social situation for me: one-on-one conversation with a person who you already have things in common with, and with whom you can practice your witty repartee? After two weeks, I felt renewed, confident, and like I had choices - a lot of choices.

Part IV: Disaster strikes (in the most inconsequential first-world-problems kind of way)

Another important role that online dating had in my life was that it led to my first experience of being hurt in a relationship. Here is how it happened: I met a guy with whom I had “chemistry”. Ah, yes, chemistry: that vague, indefinable concept that, in my case, really just meant I had met a guy I was really attracted to. We went on two really fun dates, and then spent a weekend together - and I, being naive, thought I had found my next boyfriend. But a few dates later, he suddenly (and apologetically and politely) said he didn’t think we should see each other anymore.

I was frankly crushed. I’d been incredibly lucky in that by the age of twenty-something, I’d never been dumped or rejected romantically… so this experience of rejection hit me hard. I cried. I drank three beers (a lot for me!) and watched The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo with much maudlin relish. I blasted happy music to drown out my angsty thoughts, and I pow-wowed with my best friends to analyze and re-analyze everything he had said and done. And I was crushed anew when I went on the dating site again to see that he was still active. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to date; it was that he didn’t want to date me. And that really hurt.

Part IV: Wisdom

Ultimately, I’m thankful I was rejected, because I learned a lot of important lessons:

Don’t be tricked by “chemistry”! Rom-coms tell us that chemistry is the most important thing. It’s not. At all. “Chemistry” just means “immediate sexual attraction”. This is not a wise thing on which to base an entire relationship.

Rom-coms also teach us that a guy who doesn’t want a relationship will eventually come around if you are charming enough. This is not true.

Just because someone treats you nicely, doesn’t mean they want the same thing in a relationship as you. Listening to what your date is telling you - i.e. “I don’t know if I want a serious relationship” (yep, the guy who dumped me literally said this on our second date) - is very important.

Many newly single men just don’t know how to be alone, so they start online dating even if they aren’t ready for a new relationship… and they may not realize they don’t want a new relationship until after they’ve started one. The lesson here: be up-front about your relationship expectations/goals and candidly ask your dates about theirs.

Most importantly of all, I learned firsthand what it feels like for someone you want to not want you back. My taste of rejection was the briefest, most inconsequential taste - a week-long fling, compared to committed relationships or divorces. But it was enough to foster a stronger empathy for the pain of rejection and heartbreak, and I feel that this alone was absolutely worth it.

This list of lessons may sound skeptical or discouraging. But I actually found my new knowledge to be incredibly comforting. I now had a set of rules that I could use to better play the dating game - and this time, I was sure I would succeed. Armed with my newfound dating wisdom, I ventured into the world of online dating again, with a different site (a fresh start!) and a cautiously optimistic outlook.

Part V: The Artist

My second attempt at online dating, like the first, was fun. As before, I dated many nice, polite men and had pleasant, interesting conversations. And then I met The Artist.

My first date with The Artist, as I called him in those early days, was as pleasant as any first date I’d gone on. But he had this huge, uninhibited smile, and his laugh was larger-than-life and more enthusiastic than any laugh I’d heard in my life. On our second date, I told him openly that I was dating many people, but that he was my favourite so far. He smiled and nodded agreeably. On our third date, he kissed me… and without either of us saying so, we both knew our online dating careers were at an end. More than six years later, The Artist and I are engaged and living happily with our Playstation, our cat, and some gently wilting plants.

Yes, I just summarized my relationship in a single paragraph. But my goal here isn’t to wax poetic about my fiancé. It’s to point out that without online dating, I would never met him. He works in a completely different profession from mine, and at the time that we met, he lived and worked in different neighbourhoods from me. Our social circles would never have overlapped. But online dating brought us together in more subtle ways as well. My positive experiences in early dates gave me the confidence to continue dating after I got rejected. My experience of rejection led me to try a different dating website - the site that he was on. And the lessons I learned from being rejected led me to a wiser, more open approach to dating and relationships in general - an approach that The Artist appreciated. Given this analysis, I would argue that online dating doesn’t deserve the credit for my relationship, but it does deserve the credit for pushing me out of my comfort zone and giving me experiences that helped me develop into the emotionally mature, pragmatic, and confident woman who eventually captivated a similarly mature and pragmatic man.

Part VI: Conclusions and caveats

My biggest caveat is that I used online websites with paid memberships. As I mentioned earlier, I figured that people who are paying are more likely to be looking for a serious relationship, since paying requires commitment, whereas unpaid sites would have more people who were dabbling or “just curious”. I never used Tinder or Bumble, where online dating is like a game. A friend also recently suggested that I may have had such an easy time with online dating because, in her words (NOT MINE), I am “a babe”. But if you take anything away from this essay, let it be this: online dating is not all bad or all good. Like old-fashioned dating, it’s a complex phenomenon that takes on the biases and colours that you bring into it. And like old-fashioned dating, it can provide new experiences that will let you learn things about yourself - and about love, and life in general - that you didn’t know.

Don’t let online dating define your love life. Let it be a tool to learn about yourself, and maybe, like me, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

#pikapeppa writes #fanfic writer's life #except not actually fanfic #autobiography #personal #original writing #writing #personal essay #pikapeppa reflects

34 notes · View notes

rue-by-another-name · 6 years

Text

“Late Night Lobby Flirtations” - h.s. one shot

Okay so this is almost 9,000 words ... so you all better appreciate the time I spent working on this haha. I wrote this as a thank you for the donations given to Marlie ( @hey-marlie ) for her grad school application funds! I took a bunch of different suggestions through the requests you all gave me so I hope it’s a winner for the books!

If you’d like more of this story (maybe some smutty fun ya know? ;) oh la la) then you can always donate to @hey-marlie to help her out! And read her novel while you’re at it. It’s a heartbreaking slow burn that seriously is giving me heart palpitations every single chapter I read. Highly recommend. 10/10 you’ll fall in love. I’ll put the link at the end!

AND I’M SORRY IF THE KEEP READING FUNCTION DOESN’T WORK OKAY THIS IS REALLY FUCKING LONG SO I’M SORRY IN ADVANCE.

-----

Being a lobby receptionist was not your ideal night job. If it were up to you, you’d be waiting tables for tips, or even maybe working as a shot girl at a club (also for the tips). But when the prestigious building around the block from your not-so prestigious building had put up the job listing it had seemed like the perfect time to fit a nightly job into your life.

You were in your last semester at uni, so you only have one class you were taking to finish off your degree in hospitality and business. Working in a building like this was only fitting, really, considering your next couple years would most likely be in receptionist positions. The class was an afternoon class, which meant on Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday you were up at 4pm for your one class that ended up at 6pm. That was it. That was all you had.

So taking an all-night job position starting at 7pm was kind of ideal, when you thought about it.

The building was super nice too. There was a small fridge under the desk that you filled with your favorite coconut water, and the uniform wasn’t ridiculous – a white blouse and black capris dress pants and black heels. You sat behind the desk or stood and you would answer questions for people, or answer the phone to let people into the building. You made reservations, and took house calls for electricians, plumbers, and the cable guy.

It was simple really.

And about two weeks into the job you were already starting to get to know a lot of the residents and their quirks. There was George, the elderly man in his seventies who was quite posh and used to deal in art (you suspected it might have been a tad bit illegal).

Glenda and Fred were the older couple whose college son Andrew came home over the holidays (or so they’d told you a million times; you suspected they wanted to set you up with the future lawyer). Glenda had her own decorating business and Fred was also a lawyer. Very nice people.

Sherri and Stanley had their twin little boys Charlie and Colton and small princess of a babe Clancy. The boys were always running around the lobby and laughing, their toddler sister wobbling after them and also shrieking with laughter at their antics.

Brenda the architect had a teenage daughter Melanie, who was always a bit down on herself and sick of her mum always being in her business. But they were a cute pair to behold and made you want to call your own mum almost every day.

And then there was Harry. Rock star, breakout actor, solo career, Gucci wearing Harry and his little cocker spaniel Doug. He was … well, he was a dream.

There were other residents, sure, but they weren’t the ones who hung out in the lobby, or called to ask you questions, or asked that their mail be brought up from their box. The other residents mostly kept to themselves and you were fine with that. But this small group of people were more or less a family, and you watched their interactions as they all came home from long days at work and school. In just two weeks you felt you could peg each of them for their lifestyles. And they just as easily could kind of figure you out.

“Good evening Y/N,” George smiled as he gracefully stepped off the elevator in his red silk bathrobe. He didn’t leave his flat often, you’d noticed, and when he did he was always wearing gloves and a hat and carrying an umbrella. The more you thought about it, the more you were sure he had dabbled in quite a few illegal activities and was keeping a low but lush profile for the rest of his life.

“Good evening Sir George,” you teased. You always told George he was elegant enough to have been knighted by the Queen herself, and George had been quite taken with that. The joke was an everlasting term of endearment between the two of you.

“How was your day?” you asked, straightening out some papers and starting to put some flyers into some of the mail slots.

“Just marvelous,” George nodded, “Marvelous indeed.”

“Your groceries should be coming tomorrow, correct? Please let me know if they forget anything so I can pick it up on my way to work?”

“You’re too kind dear,” George waved his hand before sitting in one of the luxurious armchairs around the glass coffee table. “I’ll let you know.”

7:30pm on the dot the Henderson family – Sherri, Stanley and the lot – walked through the door ushering in their kiddos with little Clancy asleep in her father’s arms. The twins, however, were going on and on about their footie game in the park.

“Mr. George!” Charlie cried, “I scored a goal today!”

“A goal!” George clapped for the young boy as he threw himself into his lap on the chair. You found it endearing that George had literally come down from his flat just so he could see the boys after their long day and hear their stories. He was like their surrogate grandfather.

“And I scored two!” Colton ran up as well, smiling and showing off his missing front teeth. “And I slid this from Ranger’s pocket just like you taught me!”

The small boy held up some sort of trading card and beamed as George gave Colton’s parents a petrified look. You smirked, George had definitely been involved in some fabulously famous con in the past. You were sure of it.

“We’ll talk about this later, Colton,” Sherri sighed, taking the sleeping tot from her husband. “Lovely day George?”

“Marvelous,” George nodded.

“Well we’re off for bedtime,” Stanley clapped, “Come on boys. Long day of school tomorrow.”

Both boys groaned before giving George a quick hug and heading off. Sherri stopped over at the desk as she made her way towards the elevator. “Cynthia, our babysitter, should be coming a little early tomorrow morning around 6am while you’re still here. I’ll send you her information so you know who she is and aren’t concerned about some random stranger.”

“Wonderful,” you smiled and then cooed at the sleeping princess. “She’s getting bigger already!”

“Feels that way,” Sherri chuckled, adjusting her daughter in her arms. “Have a lovely night, Y/N.”

“You too Mrs. Henderson.”

George stayed and took some tea for about an hour before retiring to his flat once more. He slipped you a bit of a tip, probably for getting him his tea even though he hadn’t even asked and it was technically your job, but you simply smiled back at his beaming face. “Buy yourself a silk scarf for that pretty neck,” he suggested, “They’re in fashion these days, I believe.”

“Anything is in fashion if you wear it correctly George.”

The voice belonged the none other than the style icon himself, Harry Styles. Today was not one of those days that he’d dolled himself up though, in nothing but some black jeans with scuffs and holes and a fuzzy forest green jumper. Little Doug, her pattering feet excitedly scampering around Harry’s boots, wagged her tail when she saw you.

“You would know, my dear boy,” George clasped Harry’s arm and smiled. “Have a good night, lad.”

“You too, sir.”

You both watched as George made his way towards the elevator and got in, signaling one final wave. Once he was gone, Harry leaned on the counter and turned to you. “D’ya reckon he was part of some great diamond heist at some point?”

“That silk robe has to cost a fortune,” you nodded, “I wouldn’t be surprised at all. He’s already teaching Colton how to pick pocket.”

Harry shook his head, “Can you believe it Dougie?”

Doug wagged her tail once more and you couldn’t help but walk out from around the desk to squat down and scratch behind her little ears. “Remind me again why you named this gorgeous girl Doug?”

“Just looked like one,” Harry shrugged, “And she responded to it so it stuck.”

“I respond to quite a lot of nicknames but my name surely isn’t Petal,” you chucked, standing back up and brushing some hair from your face.

Harry cocked his head to the side, “Someone calls ya Petal? Must be a lucky lad.”

“My dad did,” you smiled softly. You watched Harry’s smile twitch slightly.

To not make things awkward, you immediately asked, “Did you have a good day then?”

“Better now that I’m home,” Harry sighed, “Long days at the studio now.”

“I’m sure there are many fans who will thank you tenfold later on down the glamorous road you walk,” you smiled. Harry simply nodded and knuckled an eye in a tired fashion. He looked like a small child in his moment as he rubbed his eye and cradled Doug in the other hand. You wanted to massage his plump cheeks, kiss his forehead, and send him off to bed with a warm cup of tea.

“You need tea,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Harry’s tired eyes registered shock for a moment before they softened.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry,” you sighed, “You just look exhausted, Harry. Are you taking care of yourself?”

These weren’t the professional questions you probably should have been asking, but you had already crossed the professional bar quite a few times with some of your closest residents. You’d helped Melanie sober up once when she’d come home from a party before her mum found her, and you’d even turned away a suspecting novelist searching for George. Both boys had broken objects in the lobby that you’d simply glued back together before your boss found out, and you’d been discrete when Glenda’s assistant/potential booty-call had needed to leave in a hurried fashion before Melanie came home.

So, if anything, asking Harry if he was taking care of himself was mild behavior.

“It’s just, I know you’re the only one looking after Doug here, and heaven forbid if anything happened to you I know she’d be a wreck,” you spoke hurriedly.

Harry chuckled at your cover up, fair well knowing you were basically talking about yourself. “I promise ya love, I’m doing just fine. Just been a long couple days, you know?”

“Oh I know,” you gestured to the lobby, “I’m on the night shift every night.”

“How’s your class?” Harry asked, redirecting the conversation. He was good at this, you’d noticed. Harry really wasn’t a talker, but he liked company. Some nights he spent hours sitting down in the lobby just to converse with anyone and everyone who came through. He lived all alone in the penthouse flat, and you could tell from his actions that it was a lot for him all by himself. Oftentimes you found yourself being the one to ask him all the questions so he could talk and answer, but if he was tired of talking about himself he was fully capable of asking you question after question as well.

“My class is fine,” you nodded, “All about scheduling and timesheets and setting up meetings and all that. Basically learning how to keep track of a life.”

Harry nodded before knuckling at his eye one more time. “Harry,” you chided, “Go to bed.”

“It’s only 8pm,” he pouted.

“And Doug looks tired,” you offered, once more using the sweet dog as an excuse.

Harry nuzzled the dog with his nose as he cooed, “Is that right, Dougie? Too tired from your walk? You did watch the twins play footie, didn’t ya? Wanted to play yourself too.”

“Oh you went to the boys’ game! How sweet,” you smiled, “It’s adorable how much you all act as a family.”

“Gotta attach myself to some family when I’m away from my own,” Harry smiled warmly, “I’m basically the Henderson’s first born.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning and finding Harry’s stack of mail he’d never picked up. “Oh! Here’s your mail by the way,” you said as you offered it over to him. Harry placed Doug back on the ground before shuffling through the mail.

“Never any fun letters,” he sighed, “No one writes letters anymore, do they?”

You shrugged, “It’s a lost art.”

Harry nodded, slightly lost in thought, before huffing. “Okay then,” he nodded more to himself as he looked down at Doug. “We’ll probably call it a night then.”

“I’ll bring tea up,” you decided, watching as Harry made his way towards the elevator.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Harry called over his shoulder. His eyes sparkled as you smiled innocently at him. You both knew full well you’d be up at his flat in the next ten minutes with a perfectly warm mug of tea – with the perfect amount of milk and sugar respectively.

The week passed quickly, as every week does, and you found yourself one night sitting at the glass table in the middle of the lobby playing checkers with Melanie. She was grounded because her mum had found out she’d snuck her boyfriend in (much to your assistance unbeknownst to Glenda, of course) and so she was on house arrest.

“I feel bad I put you in such a bind,” you commented as you eyed the checkerboard.

“It’s not your fault,” Melanie rolled her eyes, “My mum is just a bit high maintenance and treats me like a child. When I go off to uni next year she’ll probably have a proper breakdown.”

“My mum sure did,” you smiled, “She’d already sent off four boys so I figured she’d be fine sending me off. But I was her baby, so it was far more difficult than we’d both anticipated.”

“You’re shit a checkers,” Melanie responded.

“Oh my gosh watch your mouth,” you faux-scolded.

“Miss Melanie, to what do we owe this pleasure,” Harry smiled upon the elevator dinging open. Melanie instantly went red, clearing her throat and adjusting herself in her seat. You and Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the action. You couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be a teenage girl and have Harry Styles living in your building. Even you got star struck every once in a while.

“I’m grounded,” Melanie stated. “Snuck the boyfriend in and now I can’t go to one of the biggest parties of the year.”

“And I can’t sneak her out or let her past because her mum emailed me specifically and saw I had read it.”

Harry pouted, “The biggest party of the year, huh? Seems a waste to be missing it in your final year.”

“Harry,” you hissed.

“What?” Harry shrugged, “Say I distracted you, yeah? What if Y/N didn’t see Melanie leave. Would be a shame if someone caused a scene that led to Little Miss Future Prime Minister sneaking out for her final days of freedom.”

Melanie’s eyes were wide as she stared between you and Harry, waiting for one of you to make the first move. In the month and a half you’d been working this job, you’d never flat out defied a tenet. Sure, you’d cleaned up some messes or helped them with some issues below the desk, but straight out defying Glenda’s order to keep Melanie in the lobby while she was away on business could get you fired.

“I could get fired.”

“Oh we wouldn’t want that,” Harry shook his head, “You’re the best receptionist we’ve had yet!”

“Definitely,” Melanie nodded, “I never know how amazing coconut water was until you came here.”

“Works wonders for hangovers,” Harry nodded, “Very effective. Plus, you’ve got those pretty teeth that you show whenever you smile. I must thank your orthodontist.”

You rolled your eyes, “Flattery will get you nowhere, Styles.”

Harry sat down next to you in the large armchair, squishing you up against the arm as you groaned. “Y/N,” he said very seriously. His eyes were piercing into yours and you hated that you couldn’t look away. “This is the biggest night of Melanie’s life. One day she’s going to be looking back at her time in school and think, ‘Wow, I’m so grateful for my good ol’ friends Y/N and Harry for letting me go to that party. It completely changed my outlook on life. I exercised all my good judgments and didn’t let any grubby boys near me and didn’t drink whatsoever or try any drugs –”

“We get the point,” Melanie grumbled.

“‘- but I lived, goddamn it!’” Harry cried, standing up now, “And that was the beginning of the greatest career of Melanie’s life!”

“In your head, what exactly is Melanie’s job?” you chuckled.

“Y/N,” Harry got down on one knee and grasped your hands in his. “We have to do this. For Melanie.”

Melanie leaned forward expectantly, awaiting your response. Finally you sighed and caved in. “Who am I to deny the future of Melanie’s spectacular career?”

Melanie cheered as Harry leaned forward and kissed your forehead in excitement. “Okay!” he stood up, clapping his hands together, “I’m going to get Doug. You’re going to need to get a newspaper. I’ll put on a hat, and Melanie,” he turned to the teen, “Put on your best party outfit that modestly covers everything but also makes you feel empowered. You’re getting to that party.”

Without another word, things were set in motion. You weren’t sure why you were getting a newspaper, but you simply pulled one from one of the mailboxes and waited for Melanie and Harry to return. Harry returned first with Doug, who looked very excited to be on her leash, expecting a walk, and Melanie came down much later with a jumper on over her clothes and a smile on her face.

“Here is the deal, ladies,” Harry said, “I have been training Dougie to walk out the door and sit, simply waiting for me to follow. Trying to train her off the leash, you know?”

“Wait, Doug is a girl?” Melanie asked.

Harry ignored her. “So to the cameras, it will simply look like Doug has run away. I will run after and Melanie, being the kind soul you are, you will help me look for her.”

“When in reality Melanie is going to go to the party and Harry is going to take Doug for a late night walk?” you chuckled, “Genius.”

“I quite like to think so,” Harry nodded.

“So why do I have this paper?” you asked, holding up the day’s edition.

“Well because there’s a wonderful article in there about my new single and I figured you’d like to read it,” Harry beamed.

“Unbelievable,” you grumbled.

“So if I just – oops!” Harry cried, dropping the leash and giving a subtle whistle that Doug apparently understand and had her scampering out the door. “Melanie, if you would be so kind as to –”

“I’m on it!” Melanie cried, laughing as she and Harry jogged towards the door.

“Make good choices!” you cried after her, “Be home by 2am!”

“You got it!” Melanie yelled before the lobby was filled with silence once more.

Melanie ended up returning around 1:30am, much to your excitement. Harry followed shortly after, a yawn on his face and a tired, sleepy Doug in his arms.

“How was it?” you asked, having Melanie stop to check on her before going up to her flat. Melanie smiled and started to relay the stories of the party as you gave Harry a slight wave and he made his way sleepily towards the elevator. Sending Melanie off to bed once she’d exhausted herself of story-telling, you couldn’t help but chuckle to think that once again, the residents had surprised you with their abilities to weirdly look after one another.

You loved it.

Around 6am, you started to pack up your things. You didn’t expect to see Harry at all for a little while, let alone so early after such a late night. But as you finished packing up your schoolwork, the elevator door opened and Harry came out holding little Clancy.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Harry smiled brightly. “Clancy, can you say good morning to Y/N?”

Clancy simply babbled something incoherent. Harry chuckled. “You were close, lovey.”

“What are you doing awake?” you asked in disbelief, “You went to bed hardly five hours ago.”

“I’m a quick sleeper,” Harry smiled, “I almost promised Mrs. Henderson I’d take this little one to the park for the morning. Their babysitter quit.”

“Again?” you groaned. That was the fourth babysitter they’d been through in two months. The two boys truly were terrors when it came to pestering adults. You were lucky they liked you.

“Where are you walking now?” Harry asked, “Home, I presume?”

“I am,” you yawned, “Time to get some rest before class this afternoon.”

“You work too hard,” Harry tsked.

“Says the nonstop workaholic,” you goaded, bumping his arm with your elbow.

“We’ll walk with you,” Harry decided, “Won’t we Clanc?”

Clancy once more babbled something ridiculous. You smiled, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

The walk was much shorter than Harry anticipated as you took Clancy from him, bopping her around as she giggled. Finally, randomly, you turned to Harry with a smile. “This is me,” you informed him.

As Harry looked up at your building, you suddenly felt self-conscious. It was nothing like the nice building you worked in at night, and you felt a bit ashamed. You watched as Harry’s smooth skin of his forehead wrinkled as he looked back to you.

“You live here love?” he cocked his head quizzically, and also because Clancy was tugging at one of his curls.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “Student salary,” you shrugged.

“I bet you have a very cozy home,” Harry agreed politely. You reached out and stroked Clancy’s cheek, which was already starting to turn cold in the chilly weather.

“It’s much too cold to go to the park,” you cooed, “I have toys I was planning to bring for Clance in my flat. If you’d like to come up, the two of you can play with the toys and stay warm, drink some tea, and relax.”

Harry seemed to be mulling the offer as he nibbled on his lip. You looked exhausted, and he could see you were impatient to get inside in the chill. The wiggling and whimpering of Clancy broke you both from your reflection of one another, and Harry sighed.

“Alright then Clancy, my darling!” Harry bobbed her on his hip. “Looks like we’re taking a field trip!”

Harry was right about your flat – it was lovely for what you could do with it. Plants were everywhere, happy little succulents, and you had draped tapestries over the somewhat grimy walls.

“Kettle’s on if you –”

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, yeah pet?” Harry asked, “I’ve got this; I promise.”

It didn’t take much convincing for you to retreat to your room, and while you quickly fell asleep, Harry got to work. Your flat was pretty spotless, but you had some dishes in the sink and some laundry was strewn over the back of your couch. As Clancy played with the little toys available to her, Harry set about making you a proper meal, cleaning what he could, and even beginning to knit you a scarf from some yarn and needles he found abandoned next to your couch.

Midday Harry took Clancy back to her parents, but he was quick to come back and check up on you. Knocking softly, you called that it was open already.

“My goodness you shouldn’t keep that unlocked in this building,” Harry scolded. “You never know what hooligans could walk in here!”

“Hooligans such as yourself then?” you placed your hands on your hips as he held up the scarf he’d knit. “I had this yarn set aside to knit something for George.”

“Well, your pretty neck could use a warm hug,” Harry smiled at you. “Sleep well?”

“Did you make me soup?”

Harry noted this was the first time he was seeing you in anything other than your uniform, and he had to admit you looked adorable in your jeans, boots, and baggy sweater that seemed to be consuming your entire being. Your hair, which was usually in a professional ponytail, was falling down your back in a natural and soft manner. It framed your face nicely, and you felt your body humming with embarrassment at Harry’s intense gaze.

“Okay now, I know you’ll probably find this a little odd and I promise it’s not just because I randomly showed up at your flat or because I don’t think you do your job well, but because I have an idea for a job for you upon graduation?”

Harry was rambling, but when wasn’t Harry rambling, if you were being honest, and so that’s the only reason you decided to allow him to talk.

“You have a job opportunity for me?” you asked curiously, “As in, something other than late night lobby babysitter?”

“Be my PA?”

The question was heavy in Harry’s chest, and it weighed heavy in the space between you two. Sure, you saw each other every night and were both a part of each other’s lives. But Harry was asking you to be a part of his life every second of every day. He was asking you to basically uproot your life to follow his, and he knew that this was probably something you hadn’t scheduled whatsoever.

“The pay is good,” Harry started, “And the benefits are pretty nice too. I know you’re studying hospitality and business, and I know that you’re an organized and caring individual who goes above and beyond to find a human gain in your work. I mean, what other lobby receptionist finds the time to buy yarn to knit things for her residents? Or puts her job on the line so one girl can attend one party?”

“That was mostly your idea,” you pointed out.

“Please? Y/N?” Harry asked earnestly. “I really think we could work well together, and I trust you implicitly with my life.”

“That’s pretty ridiculous considering I force tea down your throat whenever you look even a tick too tired,” you chuckled. This made Harry smirk as well, nibbling on his lip as you wrapped the scarf around your neck and let out a long, pensive sigh.

“Do you knit like this often? Would this be a common reoccurrence?”

“I can learn how to make some mittens if you’d like?”

-----

One year later and you were running down an underground hallway under a large stadium in Germany with a bottle of juice in one hand, a shirt under your arm, tablet in the other hand, and a headset practically falling off your head as you ran. There was a peach in your mouth that, even though you were trying not to bite into it, was starting to drip down your chin.

You burst through the dressing room door to find Harry struggling to put some pants on, tripping over his feet and nearly crashing into the back of the couch.

“Lovey!” he cried, smiling at you as you attempted to catch your breath. Sticking your neck out, Harry took the peach from your mouth and chuckled, reaching out and wiping the dribbled peach from your chin with his thumb before liking it.

You were immediately turned on.

“You can’t eat that yet!” you cried as Harry went to take a bit. Tossing the juice, he caught it easily as you snatched the peach back from him and placed it on the table. Grabbing the shirt, you started shoving it over his head as he protested.

“What are you – would you just let me – woman!” Harry cried, stepping away from your grabby hands and placing the rest of the sheer shirt over his broad shoulders. “What are you doing to me?”

“Drink your juice,” you ordered, “Here!” You shoved him down in a seat and grabbed for a brush as you tossed your forgotten tablet onto the couch.

“Y/N,” Harry laughed, “We’re done for the night! You cleared my schedule, remember? I said I wanted some time to –”

“I didn’t clear your schedule for you,” you huffed while trying to get some of the knots out of Harry’s curls at the base of his neck. “How much juice do you have left?”

“I finished it; why are you –”

You reached over him and shoved the peach in his mouth. “Eat.”

“Y/N!” Harry cried as he took the peach from his mouth. “Why are you force feeding me?”

“If you would just sit still,” you grumbled as your heart raced in your chest. “And let me take care of you then you would let me explain what’s going on!”

“Okay fine let’s make a deal, shall we?” Harry suggested, “How about I eat this peach and while I’m eating it you tell me what the hell has you so riled up, yeah?”

“Fine,” you sighed and started flipping through his closet for the correct jacket for him to wear. “You’ve been down the past couple weeks and obviously I noticed – everyone has noticed – and so I figured it was because someone wasn’t here. And so I cleared your schedule and let you know you had the time off tonight so you wouldn’t plan anything so you’d be free. Basically, in order to cheer you up I invited Violeta to come and see you and she’s on her way here right now and I want you look presentable and be well fed and hydrated and –”

“Wait wait stop,” Harry stood up as you turned back to face him with the dark jacket in your hands.

“Did you finish eating?” you asked meeting his eyes with a crazed expression.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, “You – why did you invite Violeta?”

“Because you’ve been sad,” you shrugged, “And tired. And I figured seeing the girl you like that you’ve missed and spending the weekend with her would give you some energy and make you feel better.”

Harry stared at you as you stood there with the jacket clutched tightly in your hands. Over the past year as his PA, you’d become Harry’s little shadow and voice of reason. You took care of everything for him unless he said he would take care of it himself, and even then you double checked his work and made adjustments you knew he’d like. You spent every waking minute together, and sometimes some sleeping minutes as well.

You’d basically moved into his penthouse in London, so you still got to see your favorite residents whenever you did your work down in the lobby. You had a guest room that Harry suggested you stay in whenever you worked late, or had an early morning for travel, but you still always felt like you were intruding so you spent majority of your time down in the lobby amongst friends instead.

It hurt Harry a little bit, knowing you didn’t want to stay with him, but you would always come back up at the end of the night and that was enough for him.

You were kind and considerate, and you were best of friends with his mum and sisters so that raised huge brownie points whenever they were in town or came to see him on tour. You were firm when you needed to be, and calm and soothing every other time.

“Have you slept recently?” Harry asked, “You’re going insane.”

“I’m not insane!” you cried, “Harry, it’s obvious you’ve been stressed! You mentioned to me the other day when I asked what was bothering you what was going on and you said you missed Violeta. So I called her and helped her rearrange her schedule and I made some adjustments on yours and now she’s going to be here any minute!”

Harry groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Y/N …”

“What?” you stopped mid-step with your arms extended as you offered him the jacket. Harry just looked frustrated now, and immediately you felt responsible. It was impossible to not become attached to the happy lad once you had devoted your life to him. This was still the best job you’d ever had and you felt like you were fully prepared after your schooling. But it was becoming harder and harder to spend time around him and see him hurting when you knew your feelings were anything but professional.

“I did something wrong,” you offered, knowing full well that you’d overstepped a boundary. “Oh God.”

“No, Y/N it’s fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it – honest,” Harry said earnestly. He took a step forward and you cleared your throat, taking a step back and holding the jacket out higher between the two of you almost using it as a shield.

“Y/N …” Harry warned.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” you groaned, “I was just trying to –”

“I know pet,” Harry nodded, “And I am very excited to see V. Thank you for noticing I wasn’t doing well. It’ll be good to spend some time with her.”

“Really? You mean that?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Of course love.” Harry reached forward and took the jacket from you, grasping your hand and pulling you towards him so he could give you a kiss on the forehead. “Now I think it’s time you get some sleep, don’t you think?”

“I have some paperwork to go over for tomorrow’s press event, and there’s the luncheon tomorrow that I need to cancel so you can have some time to –”

“Leave it,” Harry waved his hand, “Go on. Get some rest or I’m firing you.”

You pursed your lips and gave Harry a look, “You’ve been threatening to fire me since month three.”

“And the threat still stands,” Harry chuckled, “Now go.”

“Enjoy Violeta,” you gave him the most sincere smile you could muster. “She’s very excited.”

Once the door clicked closed behind you, Harry tumbled onto the couch with a groan. He’d been entertaining Violeta for a couple months now to distract from the fact that he very much was starting to fall for his cute little PA. He knew it wasn’t professional, and yet he thought about you all the time when you weren’t together. And when you were together, which was literally 23 out of the 24 hours a day usually, then he was always admiring you or being distracted by your grace.

The soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts as Violeta poked her head in, followed by sliding past the door and placing her hands on her hips. “What gives Styles?” she asked, “I get these frantic calls from Y/N saying you miss me? I need to come right away? I thought you were going to talk to her.”

Harry groaned again. “I was meanin’ to,” he sighed, “But she went behind my back. Thinks ‘m sad because I miss ya when in reality it’s because I’m in love with her and can’t tell her.”

“Obviously,” Violeta plopped down on the couch, “But none of us would be able to say no to her, so here I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry reached out for her hand and wove his fingers with hers. Violeta was a sweet girl, and Harry appreciated confiding in her when he had the chance. She was a nice kisser too, if he was being honest.

“Want a distraction or do you want to talk?” she asked softly.

Harry hummed, “Maybe a bit of both. She had this peach in her mouth – looked mighty cute. Obviously it turned me on.”

Violeta chuckled and slung her leg lazily over Harry’s lap as she pulled him into her, their chests bumping lazily as their lips met. She wove her fingers through Harry’s hair and he moaned, closing his eyes as he wondered what your fingers would feel like against his scalp.

He actually knew what they would feel like, because you massaged his head whenever he seemed too stressed, and you would do it without question. It usually caught him off guard and then he would hum at the feeling, sinking against your body as you lulled him into a peaceful sleep.

But this was much less innocent, and Harry gripped Violeta’s hips tighter as he felt himself grow harder under her as he thought of you.

Barking, mixed with hushed cries, broke through the door as Doug came barreling into the dressing room, getting past the door Violeta hadn’t closed all the way.

“Doug!” you cried, scurrying in after the pup to grasp the leash that had gotten away from you. Your eyes locked on the couple tangled together on the couch, on Harry’s flushed cheeks and sex blown eyes, and you gulped. You’d never actually seen Harry and Violeta doing anything, but they were always together and Harry had mentioned they might be becoming something maybe.

But actually seeing the two of them so intimate made your stomach flip uncomfortably like a tidal wave, and you quickly averted your eyes as Harry sat up to collect his dog.

“Aw girl you’re a mess,” Harry cooed, scratching behind Doug’s ears. “Sorry Daddy was busy princess! Y/N will take you back to your bed, yeah?”

“Right sorry,” you muttered quickly, still averting your eyes as you grasped the leash and basically dragged Doug out of the room, slamming the door behind you. Harry flopped back on the couch as Violeta watched his reaction. Palms of his hands kneading at his eyes, he grumbled, “Christ,” before knowing he’d maybe truly messed up this time.

There was only one quick flight back to London, which was way too early for there to be conversation anyway. Not that Harry didn’t notice the tension, and not that you didn’t purposefully sit by yourself in the corner curled up in a blanket of the jet.

You knew it was stupid, and you knew you needed to get over it if you wanted to keep your job. It wasn’t professional the way you were acting, and even though you felt slightly justified in the way that you were moping – by yourself without impacting anyone else – you still knew you couldn’t feel this way for Harry and be around him devoting your life to him the way that you were.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Harry asked as the car pulled up at the jet. You chewed your lip as you let out a long breath through your nose. There wasn’t really any other way to get home and you really needed to continue saving money for God knows what, bills and such, and so you didn’t want to pay for an Uber.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “Yeah I guess.”

Harry gave you a dopey smile, happy to know you were able to talk to him, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and holding out his other arm for you to duck under. He was a touchy person, you were used to this, but his intentions recently whenever you were both close was starting to make you itchy with sweat and nerves. Still, you rolled your bag behind you and let out a yawn as Harry squeezed your shoulder lovingly.

Stepping into the foyer of the building, it was like coming home (even though it definitely wasn’t your home). But it was a home, Harry’s home specifically, but the lobby was more your turf and the instant you saw George sitting there, pipe in his mouth and paper in his hands you felt your shoulders loosen the tension.

“Y/N!” he smiled, “Harry m’boy! How are we? It’s been a while since I’ve seen the two of you around.��

You smiled and bent down to give George a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you as well George. I hope you’re doing well.”

“I’m doing much better now that you’re here,” George grasped your hands in his. “The new receptionist is a piece of shite.”

“George!” Harry laughed, “Henry is doing is best! Not all uni students are as dedicated as our dear Y/N.”

“You are the finest,” George nodded, “The twins were asking for you the other day after they got home from their futbol practice, and Melanie is home next weekend from her first year at uni if you’d like to maybe stick around? I’m sure she would be just ecstatic to see you,” George smiled.

“We can have her up for tea,” Harry nodded, wrapping his arm back around you. “Sorry to take this one from you George, but I’ve got a tired girly and a tired pup here ready for some sleep.” As if one cue, little Doug whimpered and nudged at your leg. George gave your hand a kiss before squeezing it and allowing you to stand up fully again.

“Well it was lovely to see you both again. You both truly belong here. You make this place home,” he nodded.

“Oh George you’re making me blush,” you joked, winking at him before Harry started to lead you towards the elevator.

“You’re laying it on thick there, darling,” Harry chuckled, “I didn’t know elderly art criminals were your type.”

“Alleged art criminals,” you confirmed, “You can’t prove anything.”

Harry simply gave you a soft smile before looking down at his phone. “Did you get my emails on the flight?”

“Your checklist for tomorrow is already set in your calendar and I canceled your morning radio show with Nick, because honestly you’re exhausted and you look like shit and I’m sure Nick will understand.”

“I’m sure he gave you a hard time,” Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly.

“Well he seemed pleasantly excited about it, honestly,” you shrugged, “Said he was happy you were taking some time off … with me? Said he was happy you were finally growing a pair and letting me take some time off.”

The elevator doors dinged open and Harry seemed to be lost in thought. He was stuck in the elevator, staring off into the distance in deep thought. “Come on then,” you chuckled reaching over and grasping his hand in yours before pulling him into the pent house.

“You want noodles?” you asked, tossing your stuff onto the couch knowing full well he wanted noodles. Harry always wanted noodles, and ever since you’d bought him the pasta machine and gave him your nana’s noodle recipe he’d been begging you day in and day out to make the noodles for you.

“There’s still some in the fridge,” Harry mumbled, “Did Nick really say that?”

“Say what?” You were already beyond this conversation as you fiddled through Harry’s fridge – the fridge you stocked on the daily as his personal assistant.

“That it’s a good thing I’m finally giving you time off?”

You looked up to see Harry standing at the kitchen counter pouting while chomping on the carrot sticks you’d put out for him. “Do I … have you ever felt …” Harry cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “Have you ever missed out on anything in life because you’re hanging out with me? Working for me?”

You frowned as you tossed the noodles into a bowl with the pesto you’d made for him last week. You scoffed before turning and placing the bowls in the microwave.

“Y/N,” Harry whined, “This is serious.”

“You’re asking me if I’ve missed out on life because I’m doing my job?” you put your hands on your hips. “Tell me, Harry, was I ever missing out on life when I was spending every night here sitting behind a desk warming up tea for you and helping you sort your mail?”

“I just –”

“Harry, you gave me a job,” you gave him a soft smile, “I’m not missing out on anything. My life is your life.”

Harry groaned, “Not much of a life when you’re here in my kitchen making noodles.”

You rolled your eyes, “My God, Harry, would you stop being so dramatic. Nick makes one comment and suddenly you’re screwing around having an internal debate? It’s been a year and now you’re suddenly questioning whether you’ve given me enough time off? You spent Easter with my family.”

“I love your family,” Harry mumbled, “They were very nice to Doug.”

“Too nice to Doug,” you chuckled, “My mum literally fed her every hour on the hour.”

The microwave went off and Harry reached behind you to grab some utensils. “Can we cuddle and eat noodles now?” he pouted, “You’ve been distant, and I know it’s probably because you walked in on me and Violeta but I promise nothing was actually happening. I was just lonely and heartbroken and she’s very sweet but –”

“Heartbroken?” you cut him off, both hot bowls of noodles in your hands as you stared him down. “Harry did someone hurt you?”

Harry grasped the bowl from your hand and mumbled, “Shut up,” before making his way to the couch.

“Harry!” you called, “We should talk about this! Is there anyone I should take off the guest list of events? Someone I should keep from seeing you? I can change your entire schedule if you need to –”

“Y/N,” Harry breathed, turning and facing you on the couch, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N baby you need to relax!” he cooed, “It’s fine.”

“It’s just a crush?” Now you were intrigued – because you were Harry’s PA and had to take care of him, obviously, not any other reason. Scooting forward, Harry groaned and stuffed some noodles in his mouth.

“Nice try sweets,” he smirked, “You’re not getting that information out of me.”

“Is it Violeta? You say you don’t like her but –”

“My God,” Harry cried out, “The only thing I want you to do right now is eat your noodles, enjoy them, and also please pencil in Melanie for sometime for tea next weekend.”

“You have three interviews and a studio session next weekend.”

Harry gave you a pointed look. “Melanie is family. Without us, she wouldn’t have had a fun party life in sixth form. We’re basically her party parents and I want to hear about all the fun she’s getting up to in uni now.”

“Safe fun,” you reminded him.

“Yes of course. Safe fun.”

You watched as Harry fiddled with his noodles, swirling them around the bowl. “You really care about the people here, don’t you?”

Harry shrugged, “I cling to people. I attach myself to them in because I need a family around me to feel safe, I guess. But yeah … something about the people in this building is just really special.”

“I think so too,” you smiled, “Best job I ever had.”

“Better than the one you have now?”

“I don’t know, my boss is pretty demanding,” you joked.

“You brought this building together,” Harry informed you, nudging you with his spoon. “Seriously, you did. Before you spent your nights with us we basically just said hi to each other in the lobby and that was it. But now George sits there and waits for the twins to come home, and Melanie babysits Clancy and walked Dougie when I can’t.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to keep working for you.”

“I’m saying it because my life changed the minute you started making me tea and now that you’re making my schedules, my life all kind of fits together.”

“Then give me a raise,” you joked.

“Done.”

“No I was just –”

“I’ve basically taken your life from you,” Harry chuckled, “It’s the least I can do.”

“You haven’t taken anything from me,” you groaned, “I’m here because I love you, you idiot. I’d make you a thousand schedules a day if it meant getting to spend every day with you.”

“Nights just weren’t enough, huh?” Harry knew he was getting a bit cocky, but his praise kink was kicking in and his narcissistic wires in his brain were going haywire.

“I guess not.” Your body was tingling, and your senses were heightened as Harry leaned in and gave you a bright smile.

“Nights weren’t enough for me either. It’s why I nabbed ya away. I’m too selfish.”

“Well I’m glad,” you nodded, “It’s been a great year.”

“To many more to come?” Harry asked offering his bowl for the two of you to clink in celebration.

“If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always ‘ave ya. Want ya all the time.”

Harry watched as your eyebrows furrowed and you cocked your head slightly. “Want me?”

Harry sucked in a breath and set down his bowl on the table in front of the two of you. “‘M heartbroken, remember?”

Lost for words, you simply cleared your throat. “I’m your PA. I … I live in a small flat with one room and a little kitchen. I eat Ramen most nights you’re eating steak and –”

“Y/N …”

“ – I work the lobby and you live up here in the penthouse,” you finished, “You can’t honestly –”

“Oh I do,” Harry nodded, “I do a lot. ‘S why I bring Violeta around so much, because I can’t think about wanting to be with you all day when you’re my little PA running around bringing my life together.”

“Harry …”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, “How could I tell you like this over noodles? It just spilled out. I guess I got jealous seeing you flirt with George down there; I thought he was gonna take you from me.”

“No one is going to take you from me,” you shook your head and scooted forward.

“I’m thinking Doug might really need a mum, you know, a maternal figure in his life?” Harry whispered with his lips barely brushing against yours. “She’s going to need a strong female figure and I think you’d make a mighty fine mum.”

“She is a sweet pup,” you nodded, “Being a single dad must be difficult.”

“So difficult,” Harry whispered as his fingers dug into your hair, swirling around and tugging you forward slightly.

“Who am I to deny a cute puppy?” you hummed.

“Don’t deny me,” Harry basically pleaded before his lips pressed to yours gruffly, anxiously, and with an aggression you had never seen him kiss anyone with before. You were immediately crawling into his lap, digging your fingers into his shoulders and up to his head as you held him close to you.

His lips were hot, and you both tasted like buttery noodles and pesto, but his fingers were like warm sparks against your skin as he hiked up your shirt and dug his fingers into whatever he could get a hold of.

You seemed to be doing the same as you pulled away to be able to breathe. Harry let out a low whimper as you hot lips sucked down his neck, nipping at his collarbones as Harry couldn’t control himself and bucked his hips up against you as you gasped against his skin.

“Harry …” you moaned, “We … we shouldn’t. You need sleep,” you huffed as Harry buried his lips into the crook of your neck and nuzzled in as if he were hibernating for the winter, never wanting to leave.

“Stay,” he whispered, “Please.”

“I would be an awful dog mum if I left,” you joked.

“Y/N,” Harry whined.

“I’ll stay,” you nodded, “I’ll stay.”

“Forever,” Harry groaned, head lulling back to the back of the couch as you giggled and kissed up his exposed neck.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Harry admitted, “Love you, honestly. Love you a lot. Love you really more than anyone else at this point. Don’t tell Dougie that though.”

“I won’t tell,” you smiled as you felt your eyes filling with tears, “I love you too, Harry. I’ve loved you since you walked into the lobby for the first time with a cupcake because I looked tired.”

“I made those cupcakes so fast,” Harry smirked and reached up, running his fingers through your hair and twisting the ends around the tips of his fingers. “Saw you sitting there and you smiled at me … God, breathtaking. And I ran up and made those cupcakes.”

You laughed and swatted at his chest. “You told me they’d been sitting around for ages! Didn’t want to waste them!”

“Didn’t want to waste any time away from you,” Harry shrugged, “Wanted every excuse to see you.”

“You’re so fucking cute,” you groaned, “But that doesn’t mean I’m canceling your dentist appointment.” Starting to get off Harry’s lap, his groan turned to a laugh.

“Nothing gets past you,” he called after you, “Where are you going?”

You turned around and pulled your shirt over your head, looking suggestively (as sexily as you could muster) over your shoulder. “Well I’m going to bed,” you shrugged, “Thought you wanted me to stay?”

Harry’s eyes widened and seemed to sparkle as he nearly tripped over his feet to get up and follow you. Stumbling, he gripped at your skin as if he were drunk, drunk on you, and clung to you desperately.

“Yes,” he whispered, “Stay.”

Something told you that even though you didn’t work in this building anymore, you were going to be spending quite a lot of time here still. You, Harry, and you happy lobby family … and Doug, of course.

-----

DONATE TO MARLIE B HERE!

READ MARLIE B’S NOVEL

SEND IN ONE SHOT REQUESTS

232 notes · View notes

regretsdelusionstoughluck · 6 years

Text

PART 3

WEDNESDAY MORNING

While Damon was online looking for odd jobs he noticed an add for dancers needed. He’s had a stripper license since he was 19 and used this as a means for extra money when not deployed. He sent this to Oliver in an email prior to calling him on his way to the pharmacy.

“Morning”

“Check out the email”

As he pulled out his iPad, he saw the email

“What the fuck is this?”

“Strippin....you already do way more, plus a bachelorette party would get you a killing. I used to dance at a few of them when I was home”

“Got anything else?”

“Banquets, I know a lot of companies. I can send you a list of catering companies you could do work for. What you got going on right now?”

“Laying on the couch, going into the office”

[Really? That’s the best you got? What part of “I want out of this life do you not understand?]

While he wasn’t thrilled about it, he took some time to think about t and he realized that bachelorette parties are for the entertainment value and he did keep his body in shape. However, didn’t want his current situation to mirror that of “The Players Club”.

Oliver got up from the couch to fix himself an omelette while continuing to talk. “Yo, I got you on speaker phone, doing some stuff in the kitchen”

“Man, remember when we were young and we would see vacationers out here, we vowed that one day it would be us taking trips with our families?”

“I do, and when I look at where I’m at, I think to myself “What the actual fuck?”

[We were lied to. In 2008, when we were in high school, we were told to go to college. That it was the ticket to a successful life. What they didn’t tell us is that the economy would tank. They didn’t go cover any alternatives. They never went over the cost of living and the fact that people here are working three jobs. I should have seen this with my own parents. Dad worked for the state and then worked as a janitor in the evenings. Mom still works as a financial aid officer at a state college. The preparation sucked. What the fuck am I gonna use creative writing for? Why was that in school?]

He cut the conversation short to eat his breakfast and get a shower in before work. Afterwards, he ironed a pair of pants and a golf shirt and heaved to the office where the direction informed him and Claudia:

“I have a project for the two of you. Our event is coming up at the mall. You two are going to be drawing outlines to these animal pieces on the construction poet right there. We’re expecting about 200 kids”

“No problem” Oliver said looking at the green construction paper in front of him

“It’ll be a breeze” Claudia assured him as she took a pair of scissors and the elephant trunk and demonstrated.

“So it’s like build a bear type of think but with other animals but they’re decorating their bags with them. That’s cute”

“Yeah, so are you gonna go to the career fair next week”

“The one at the convention center?”

“Yea, I heard there’s going to be several companies there.”

[Resume-FEMA, fucking, and non-profit]

“I plan on it. Do you know if any government agencies are gonna be there? I couldn’t find a roster anywhere”

“Not sure”

They continued working while talking about goals and aspirations when he noticed an alert on her phone. Knowing the conference due to getting the same alert an hour earlier, he asked her how she knew about it? Somewhat embarrassed, she snapped “What are you doing looking at my phone?!”

“I merely glanced over!” he exclaimed before taking her aside and confessing to being involved in the worlds oldest profession “I hate it. One would think attractive people and pleasure but there’s no real live and frankly it feels like a modern version of slavery. I can’t get a decent date to save my life”

After a moment of silence, she admitted that she was a phone sex operator and that she worked in evenings. “I have a friend who also is in high class escorting”

“High class?”

“Let’s talk about it later? How about we meet for a drink after work? We need to get a bit more of this done.”

Meanwhile, Damon was scouting on the web when his eye caught the attention of a webcam modeling website.

He though about his current life and how he’d mange to file his taxes. He normally got a 1090 at the end of the year. He also though about the repercussions of this and the thought that the clientele could be from his local area. He had a flashback to being deployed in Germany where he and some buds where in a night club, partying surrounded by beautiful women. “We are like royalty!” He thought about a conversation he had with his peer about wanting to serve for eight years and then retire and start college. Little did he know that half way though that time frame that he’d suffer a back injury along w/ PTSD from witnessing the death of a friend at the hands of a grenade.

He applied for work with multiple agencies and thought about how he could sporadically work vs checking in daily. With webcam modeling he could set his own schedule. With that in mind he decided to text Oliver.

“Who was that?”

“My friend Damon”

“So about how long have you with with this company?”

“About six months. I’m trying to start grad school”

They chatted while filing paperwork. They talked about politics, racial issues, economic issues, and the like. Claudia made for good company. She graduated with two degrees. She majored in English Education and Journalism and worked as a teacher’s aide for a period. She was tired of the work with virtually no pay. She responded to an add. Currently she works for a phone sex. One has seen the commercials late at night. She’s one of them. Definitely more conventional than Oliver’s current job.

As he was getting ready to eat lunch, she Claudia asked him if he wanted to eat while they worked. “Sure” he said as he went to grab his lunch out of his bag.

“We work with several schools in their special ed departments”

“What do y’all do?”

”We will be finalizing contracts for events mainly. But we do outreach and after school programs on social etiquette and speech practices our goal is to help those with autism be as integrated into society as possible” Noticing Oliver’s garden salad, she asked him “you health conscious?”

“Yep. Grew up like that. My parent’s rarely fried anything, but they didn’t ban them from the house. My mom was always big on vitamins and drinking plenty of water. I practice that today, to keep things under control. Being a diabetic, I have to watch it.”

Shocked at the revelation she asked him when he was diagnosed. He was diagnosed at 6 years old.

“I’m trying to lose weight, but I find myself emotionally eating more than I should”

Trying to avoid saying anything that could be interpreted as offensive, he simply said that he had his days too, hence the reason he goes to the gym six days/week, doing a combination of cardio and weights. After they finished eating lunch, they cut more construction paper and bagged it. They filed folders away for about an hour when Oliver signed out.”See you tomorrow?”

“You’ll see me in a couple of hours.”

The sun was beaming as Oliver drove home. He rolled down his window and plugged his phone in to have some music playing. He checked the mail and saw the electric bill was in. “Shouldn’t be this much” he said “I’m never home”

He checked his email as well as his escorting profile receiving three request including one overnight stay. Booking these trips back to back, he thought about his weekly check at $8.75/hr at 25 hrs per week along w/ the money from the three client’s that he’d earn. He’d have enough to pay his final payment on his only student loan and to pay his car note.

He kicked off his shoes to give his feet some air and called his mom.

[I’m being nice. This place is a shithole, in fact the only reason my unit isn’t laden with roaches is because I frequently buy those foggers and then I have to open the damn windows and door risking my shit being stolen. Also, Bengal and Boric Acid along the cracks and corners have done wonders.]

He looked up and realized that it was time to meet Claudia. He traded in his work outfit for a pair or black cargo shorts, a zero-nineteen tank top from K-Mart, and a pair of flip-flops and headed out. He got in the truck, turned the air on and arrived to the bar 20 minutes later. Locating Claudia at a table in the bar area we walked in to meet her when the waiter took their drink order.

[She’s a pharmacy tech and she still needs to be a lady of the evening by night? I’m fucked-literally and figuratively]

She advised him to update his profile to include massages and casual dates at a lower rate. While they were talking, A woman walks up, dark skin, about 5′9, in her mid 20s. She spotted Claudia and walked in the sit next to her.

“Hey chick!”

“Hey!”

“Hello, I’m Aya, how are your doing?” she said as she reached out to shake Oliver’s hand

“Oliver, I’m good. How about you?”

“So this is the guy? He’s cute”

“He’s taken”

“Actually I’m very available”

After ordering a drink, she begin to explain to Oliver how she got into her current part time job. “I started off escorting however a client of mine introduced me to a coworker of his that owned a matchmaking service. I showed up to a mixer I went out on one date. I never saw the guy again afterwards. That said, he did mention to me that he had utilized services where one would rent a dates for events. I eventually branched off and begin advertising on craigslist and the like.”

“So do you still...….you know?”

“Sporadically, but that’ll cost extra.”

Later that night, he decided to update his profile w/ additional services offered. He decided to try out a couple of speed dating events himself. He might even snap a client or two. Perhaps, he’d been looking in the wrong places, maybe it was time for more upscale social functions. His current evening work was not a glamorous job and frankly it was quite dangerous.

[Prostitution can be traced back as far as biblical times. Not a new profession and it’s a profession that’s always been available for the money. Sometimes, we use it to pay off a loan or some sort of debt. For others, it’s the love of sex. Some just like the temporary luxury that comes with being one’s bitch. Me? I’d like nothing more than to settle down. I know there’s a way. It may take a while to find it, but I refuse to have THIS be my stop.]

STORY SYNOPSIS

CHARACTERS

PART 4 TO FOLLOW

#BROMANCE #SEXTRADE #BISEXUAL #TUMBLRFICTION #TUMBLR-FICTION

1 note · View note

bomberqueen17 · 7 years

Text

The sister whose apartment I appropriated for Found Cat has decided to motivate herself to clean her by now very cluttered apartment by throwing one of those Tupperware-style parties on Saturday. It’s for luggage or something, I don’t know. Anyway.

The apartment’s a disaster; when she moved in, she filled the large closet in the entryway with huge rubbermaid bins full of shit she hasn’t looked at in the four years since (and, I might mention, shit she’s hauled from Cortland to Buffalo to Denver to Troy to across-Troy). And then she had bad depression, and then she went through grad school, and then she had roof leaks that meant she had to pile everything she owned into different rooms in the rather small sort of railroad-style apartment (buildings in old Troy are like fifteen feet wide for real), and it happened like three times that the lighting fixture in her bedroom crashed down amid filthy water all over her bed at three in the morning, but the landlord (a good dude don’t get me wrong the building’s from 1831 and shit happens) finally fixed it, and then she came home once and her living room was full of water on a sunny day and it turned out someone’s garden hose next door had burst and sprayed straight in her window for hours, warping her floor and damaging a lot of her belongings (the mortified neighbor paid, but, the damage was impressive).

Anyway. This place is to put it mildly a disaster area. I’ve hauled furniture out, in the last couple of months I’ve spent several days here mostly cleaning out bags full of old mail and shit she threw in there to hide it when someone came over and she was “tidying”-- but today I promised her several hours, and showed up with a half-assembled quiche Farmsister had prepared for the occasion, and threw it in the oven and we started to clear out the Dreaded Closet.

She insisted, see, that if we just got the shit out of the closet, the stuff she cares about can go in there, and then she’ll go through those boxes and throw away most of what’s in them.

But like. The closet was stuffed full. The rest of the apartment is also stuffed full. So we pulled out a filing cabinet yesterday, and put it into my car, and Farmsister now has a second filing cabinet for her office, which doesn’t fit but that’s her problem, not Middle-Little’s and thankfully, not mine.

And it’s going to take weeks to go through the contents of these boxes. We moved the remaining filing cabinet into the closet, but that now means we can’t put even a single one of these totes or boxes back in-- and some of them might be things she wanted to keep after all, so...

We hit on a daring plan. Earlier, Farmsister had expressed to me that she worries about Middle-Little, and thinks she should probably make a standing dinner date with her once a week going forward, it’d be good to see her and make sure she’s eating properly and also, Farmbaby loves her and listens to her and wants to see her all the time.

So I said, we take all the boxes over to the farm, and then you have a deal: Once a week, you come to dinner, and the first thing you do on arrival is take a box. That box comes back to your apartment. You know you have now one (1) week to get through that box. And Farmsister isn’t going to let you not take a box next week. You’ve got to get this one put away and sorted out and gone, in your apartment that is already cleaned and organized with your current belongings. You start from a baseline of your currently-used belongings are present and accounted for. And then you go through your old shit and either make it fit, or throw it out. Instead of binging, it’s regularly-scheduled.

This, unlike many plans-- which Middle-Little excels at making and literally never sticks to-- will work, because Farmsister is really good at sticking to a fucking plan, ok, and she’ll do it, and she doesn’t understand Middle-Little’s total lack of executive function but she does love her and want to help, and this way she won’t be too mean, but she also won’t let her slide.

So we called Farmsister and she agreed to this. It’s probably five carloads of stuff, which will fill about half of one of the empty grain bins up in the granary.

This all is very good, because our poor mother has awful PTSD, of sorts, about cluttered apartments in Troy-- when her brother, her only brother, her baby brother, died very suddenly a couple of years back, he left her a three-story townhouse in Troy absolutely stuffed fucking full of cats, their vomit and shit, tuna cans, old clothes, books and books and books, garbage, and priceless antiques, and she and Dad had to clean it out alone. Well, they had the help of the homeless man who was living in the garbage-filled basement apartment. I’m not kidding, there really was a homeless dude in there. My uncle knew he was there and had decided he was cool with it. The dude was... not really... okay, but Mom and Dad gave him actual money to keep the house from burning down while they were cleaning it out, and they all parted friends, sort of, in the end. Which is better than you’d expect a story like that to go.

Anyway. Mom cries sometimes because she’s worried about Middle-Little’s apartment. It’s good she hasn’t seen my house in six or seven years. Though, she wants to visit. Yikes.

Hey, I got like six huge totes full of fabric and old drapes out of my basement to make yurt quilts so that’s a start.

And if I can save Middle-Little’s apartment-- she’s lived here exactly four years as of last week, by the way. Yiiiiikes.

I took a break and let Middle-Little have some time to herself to go through her shit, and instead deep-cleaned her bathroom, which was cathartic as fuck and rewarding. It’s a lovely little tile joint and I Magic Erasered the fuck out of it and it’s literally never been that clean, so I feel really good.

The other thing I did today was clean out half the granary’s second floor, and inventory all the Christmas ribbon, and go through the dried flowers from last year and cut down all of the statice and sort it by color. Then I spent the afternoon entertaining Farmbaby, whose cooperation was easily bought by the promise of a single candy bar. She’s wonderfully bribeable and it’s great.

#i should be asleep #i'm winding down #ugh #personal #about the author #anyway that's part of why i'm not online literally at all lately #i'll be back soon i promise

8 notes · View notes

synchronysymphony · 7 years

Note

My dear that's too vague, please rant

okay I’m so sorry wow but here it Comes ,, (this is really therapeutic for me LOL so you don’t have to read it bc it’s going to be so long) (also under a read-more bc I don’t want to ruin anyone’s day)

my guy ,, I’m not the type of person to give up easily. I’m persistent, and I really do believe in getting up and trying again, no matter how hard things are. But I feel like I really should give up, because nothing I do seems to do any good, and I’m fucking up everything in my entire life.I adore academia. I always have, even as a little girl when I had to teach myself math, and assign myself grades because being an unschooler can suck for someone who genuinely wants to learn everything, and has no one to ask for help. But I was good at it! I did teach myself math, and history, and literature, and science, and all those things– and I taught them to my younger siblings, too. When I got to high school, I thought things would change, because I fought so hard to get out of homeschooling (not that it’s a bad thing; it just wasn’t right for me), and now I had a chance to learn, and be taught, and do real homework, and it all seemed so perfect.Except, I really struggled! I didn’t have a good background in math and science, so I had to work so much harder than everyone else just to do worse (which, granted, for an AP student isn’t really bad, but I’ve always looked for reasons to hate myself, so this was a good one). And it continued all four years! I loved learning so much, and on the few occasions when I could concentrate long enough to read the textbook, I got really into it and could spend hours just poring away. I took AP chemistry, not because I’m good at science, but because I wanted to learn it, and I was fascinated by the labs. But I didn’t do very well in the end, and that probably really affected my ability to get scholarships. I ended up going to Ohio State my freshman year, 2500 miles away from home, because they gave me more money than anyone else.When I transferred to UCLA for my second year, I thought everything was going to turn around. I was back in California! I was studying at one of the best linguistics programs in the country! Except ,,I still couldn’t study. I still couldn’t concentrate. And I still couldn’t get out of bed or participate in class or go to office hours often. I tried really hard, and I still am, but nothing seems to be working. I had to give up my computer science minor because two weeks into Intermediate Programming, I realized I couldn’t remember how to do functions (which is like ,, really bad lol). I love learning so much, and it’s always been my dream to go into academia and be a professor/researcher and share knowledge with the world, because in my eyes, that’s the noblest thing I could do (me in particular, not “one”). But I can’t fucking cut it in this world. My syntax class is so hard. I failed two quizzes, do you know that? Most of the people in my class really hate it. All they do is complain, and they don’t care about it, and they’re definitely going to forget everything in two months, which is totally fine, and I’m not judging, but I hate myself so much, because I do care, and I do want to learn, but I do so horribly in comparison.

And then, my future. I love working in the lab with all my heart, but I don’t think I’m going to get a position there for next year. I decided to take a gap year, you know, because grad school is expensive, but now I need to find a job, and I’m so scared that I won’t be able to. My mom thinks I’m a burden already, and I am, and I really do think it would be better if I died, because then she wouldn’t have to pay for me anymore. It’s a bit of a sunk-cost fallacy, though, because I’ve stayed alive for this long, so it seems like I should continue on. But that’s logically not true. I don’t know if I’ll get into any grad schools, and even if I do, I’ll probably just fuck it up and throw away my chance like I did here. I can’t do anything right, not even the things I love. Yeah, if I’d done a different major, I probably would have been fine, because I’m a good writer, and I’m good at analyzing texts and stuff, but gosh, can you imagine the blowback if I’d decided to do literature or political science? It’s bad enough that I’m doing linguistics and cognitive science. I think the only reason people accept it is because they don’t know what it is.And speaking of which, my dream is of course to get a PhD in linguistics (morphological processing, yeah), but my mom wants me to do psychology. Which, okay, I’m interested in everything, and I do love psych, but she wants me to do it at her university, because it’s free. What kind of horrible person would I be to turn that down? It’s another reason to die, because I know I would go completely insane if I had to live in my home (without my siblings) for another six years, but I can’t say no to my mom after everything she’s done for me. I would be good at clinical psych, I know I would. I shouldn’t even complain. Because what am I even looking for, fulfillment? That’s so selfish. I’m probably the most selfish person ever, because here I am, in love with something so economically useless. I can’t pay for my parents’ divorce by drawing bad syntax trees. I don’t know what’s going to happen in my future, but I dread it so much. I never thought I’d be alive this long, and actually, I still don’t think I’ll make it out of college alive sometimes. I have a really detailed plan for when I die, and I could carry it out literally any time, and most days, I feel like I will. But I probably won’t, because I fail at everything else, so I’m definitely going to fail at that, too.

People have always thought I was popular, and still do, and I do act like it because I’m a conventionally attractive valley girl, but I’m so scared of losing everyone around me and doing something bad that would hurt them. It’s happened before – I’m too pretty, and I get too much attention from people of other genders, and that makes the people around me upset. And I’m not even that great anyway. Like, I’m fun to party with, and I’m charming (I think), but I’m not Good. I’ve had so many bad romantic relationships, and some of them are totally not my fault lmao but others must be. I don’t know what I did, but I must have done something. They would never tell me, though, so I don’t know how to fix it. Anyway, I’m also a really bad person. I’m so selfish and lazy, and I don’t do enough for others, and I’m so self-absorbed, and I’m a whiny crybaby who can’t even stand the word “bitch” and I’m just so weak and annoying and gross. I’m too bubbly, and I say motivational things, and I tell everyone to do their best, and it’s so annoying, but I don’t know what else to do, because I tried creating a fake personality before, and it was just weird, and I hated myself even more. I’m scared to lose people, but I’m even more scared to hurt them, so I end up pushing them away, or isolating myself, and I know I’m going to end up all alone. I’m so afraid of getting older. I have panic attacks whenever I think about graduation. I haven’t even ordered my sash and cap yet, because I’m too much of a fucking baby to go online and do it, and now it’s probably too late. I’m missing so many things, and I’m too old to be this young. I’m so immature, you know? And so ignorant, and so inexperienced, and yeah, I want wisdom, but I’m so afraid to grow up and get it.

I have two papers to write this weekend, and a take-home final, and a final to study for, but I’m struggling so hard, because I just want to die, and it’s hard to think about anything else. I’m stupid, like it’s not even an indictment, I mean intelligence is just a construct anyway, but I hate it. I want to do better, and I can almost do it, but then something happens, and I fall back down again. I can’t do anything right, and I never have, and I never will. I will die as a complete failure and waste and burden on the world.

And I think that’s the worst part. Because above all, above anything else, I want to be good. I want to help, and make the world better, and create some light and beauty where I can. But I’m not, because even my presence, even the smallest breath I take, is an inconvenience at best. At this point, the only good thing I could do would be to die, but even that would have consequences, because then my parents would have to pay for the funeral (I have it planned– I’m going to keep them from knowing that I killed myself, because the shame of having a daughter who committed suicide would upset my mom so much, but funeral costs aren’t cheap). I just keep putting it off, because I’m a loser like that. Right now, I do have a reason, because I need to write the paper for my group project, but once I do that, I can die. My group partner can present it by herself, I’m sure. But knowing me, I probably won’t. So that’s another thing to hate myself for.

I’m sorry for unloading this. I really am. I know you asked, but you don’t deserve to have this dumped on you, and of course, no one else does either. I’ll do something, so don’t worry, but yeah, don’t feel too bad. I’m still going to do my best (at least until Tuesday).

#ask #anon #negative #suicide mention

1 note · View note

thefalsedeath-blog · 7 years

Text

My MI story

I was a late bloomer so why shouldn’t my mental illness be any different?

I don’t remember exactly when I first became depressed but I believe it started late in high school and got exceedingly worse in college. I had never really been away from home but college was my only ticket out of a small hometown.

What I thought was normal college behavior may have been the beginning of my mania. I was usually a rambunctious and outspoken person but struggled to find a place to “fit in” while in college. I literally picked my major blindly and although I liked my classes just fine, I was never really comfortable with it. I was an outsider and wasn’t raised to be in the Ag industry like all my classmates. I had no idea what I wanted to do then and I’m still that way at 38 years old. The binge drinking….random hook-ups…nothing was fulfilling. I remember coming home on breaks, sneaking a cigarette from Mom and sitting on the back porch while rocking back and forth while telling myself I’m useless and life was worthless. I was 20 years old when this started.

I didn’t date much and never had a boyfriend in college until I met someone long distance at the end of my junior year. It was long distance. We spoke a lot, chatted online, and saw each other every few months. It was going ok until my last semester. I was looking for jobs in his area because there was nothing for him where I was. Nothing panned out job wise so I took the only job I was offered…at a game company. I was getting ready to graduate in December 1999 but that October before, my boyfriend disappeared from my life. One day we were chatting and the next, he was gone. No calls, emails, nothing. His parents always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t come to the phone and he wouldn’t respond to anything. It crushed me and ruined my graduation. I thought perhaps he would still come and surprise me…but nothing.

I started my job right after New Years and hated it. I cried every morning for 6 months because I was so unhappy going there but I had student loan responsibilities that my mother wouldn’t let me forget. They didn’t know what to do with me so I was basically a jack of all trades. It wasn’t until August of that year (2000) that I heard from the boyfriend. He couldn’t explain why he went silent but after some long phone calls, I gave him another chance. It didn’t last 4 months before I ended it. We had been friends ever since then. Kept in touch and always loved each other but realized it just wasn’t meant to be.

That should have been a sign of things to come-a pattern that would consistently repeat itself. I fall in love and give all of myself and then they disappear/give up.

After 2 years, I decided to move to Chicago for someone else I was dating long distance. I left my job and moved in with him. I started temping and that led to a permanent position. However, the better I did, the worse “we” did. He could only work retail and I became the mother in the relationship. Paying for everything while he spent his money on being the “life of the party” and on whatever he felt like. Then I became pregnant in 2003. It was an easy decision to abort and have no regrets to this day but I believe that it made my depression worsen and I began medicating at this time.

We broke up after I returned from a business trip and he made it clear that we were no longer intimate because I had gained weight. Not only was he short with terrible acne but his teeth were a mess! He was also an illegal immigrant. Months later after I moved out, I received a call from the police telling me that he has been hit by a car and was at the emergency room. I left work to go see him as I was listed as his ER contact. I was there for his surgery, I took him home and got up every 4 hours to give him meds, clean him, feed him etc until he was able to go back home. Later, I was accused of trying to interfere in his relationships and we stopped contact. Although I resent him for making me feel awful about myself, he also opened my eyes to a lot of new things-for that I am grateful.

It was throughout this time that I began to put on a mask and absorb myself into how others were. Their interests were mine…I was pliable. If I didn’t agree with them, I WAS wrong and made to feel stupid because of it. I was a naïve conservative girl living in a very open minded city. You can imagine how that feels…still being the outsider.

Between 2004 and 2006 I continued to run up credit card debt, started to sleep around, and generally begin my downward slide. I was trying different anti-depressants and even tried to see a shrink but nothing was helping me. I contracted HPV and went through several procedures to remove cancerous cells from my cervix due to my promiscuity.

I met someone online in late 2005 and he immediately pushed us into a relationship and I moved in within 5 months. After 1.5 years of always being wrong and stupid, he began sleeping with someone else but was accusing me of it. I became crazy with jealousy and snooped all over to find the proof that HE was cheating and when I found it, he denied it and made me believe I was crazy and making it all up.

I took a leave of absence from my job for 5 weeks to come home and get therapy. I wasn’t eating, sleeping, crying all the time and was like that for months. This was my first breakdown. I still hate him to this day and wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire.

Once I moved back to the Chicago area, I again began dating/sleeping around as a means to feel worthy/wanted. I was also still fighting the lingering effects of my HPV and the shame I felt.

In 2009, I met a wonderful guy that had his shit together and I moved in with him 6 months later. My family liked him and he was a balance to my high-strung, worrisome ways. However, I again became the Mom and took care of the house and all the cleaning. He would come home, pop open a beer, and drink till he passed out. He never missed a day of work though….he was a functional alcoholic. He wasn’t mean, abusive, or evil in any way. He was just there. While with him, my work life began to crumble and I was becoming more and more anxious. I would have depressive episodes more frequently where I just couldn’t get out of bed. (these episodes started in 2003). There would be days that I just laid in bed crying and he had no idea how to help. He suggested that I leave my job as the stress was getting to me and I was coming home crying and almost violent with rage. I left my job in May 2010 and took the summer off (I had saved up). I got a job in late October and was let go in Jan. 2011. It was then that I began to look out of state for a job and that’s when I landed in Ohio. He was supposed to sell the house and come with me after a 6 month trial but that never happened. It was a good thing because I had fallen out of love with him before I even left Chicago. He treated me like a queen and I have no ill words for him…we just weren’t compatible in the long run. We became good friends instead of lovers.

Shortly after my breakup, I went online again to meet new people as my new job was nothing but new college grads or established soccer Mom/Dads that had never left the Dayton area. Once again, I’m a transplant that doesn’t fit in. I also quickly discover that my job is a dead-end and a VERY poorly run department with nothing but drama. One year and 5 months into the new job, I meet Jamie*. He wasn’t tied to Dayton and neither was I. I was actually looking for a job in England by this time. He was a frequent mover and was passing through his home state. We didn’t expect to meet each other and find what we wanted. It just sort of happened.

Jamie was very open about being ex Air Force with head injuries, epilepsy, and Bipolar. I didn’t shun…I began to ask questions and do research on it. I wanted to know all I could so that I could be supportive and understanding. We had similar taste in music, politics, TV shows. He was so interesting to me with his travels and stories. He (just like my 1st ex in Chicago) was a completely different world and I was starving to hear all I could. I began watching more of his TV interests, reading more about what he would talk about etc…again; I was diving into HIS life. Things were rocky because our communication was rough to begin with. Lots of misunderstandings and I was still looking for another job. However, it only took me 3 months to fall completely in love with him. In August of 2013, I had severe withdrawal from 2 missed doses of my antidepressant. I was crying uncontrollably, shaking, hallucinating, suicidal and generally in a bad way. He took care of everything…called the Dr., my work. It was then that I was certain I had found a keeper. I also began therapy at this time because the withdrawal scared me and I had to face up to the fact that something else was wrong. It was at this time that the term bipolar was 1st brought up to me. He claimed Lithium as his savior…my family insisted I wasn’t bipolar, just depressed.

Soon after this episode, I was offered a job in Kansas City but with my recent breakdown, I didn’t feel mentally up to a move and starting a department from scratch. I didn’t have the self esteem then (and still don’t) and he wasn’t interested in moving with me. We had a terrible fight and things ended. He left the country for 6 weeks and I went back to “dating” while he was away.

When he came back, it was Thanksgiving and I had him over to meet my Mom because he had no family around here (none that he was close to). We had a great time and after that, it was like our relationship/communication just flipped. We were getting along and everything was wonderful. Around Christmas time, we began again as a couple.

Anytime he was sick, I was there to help…anytime he wanted, I gave him space. I did all I knew to be supportive of his conditions. I was tracking what meds he could/couldn’t take so that someone had a record. He was a loner and often stated how his friends never cared/took an interest in his life or his condition. It was at this time that I stopped therapy. I didn’t feel I was getting anywhere and she was beginning to push “faith” on me.

Then in July 2014, his ex step daughter was getting married and he asked me to go. She asked me to be her personal attendant. I left a business trip early to go be with him and help her. This was the first “family” member that was really close to him that I was meeting and I thought it was a good sign. He went in a few days earlier and was under a lot of stress to get her situated and caught up on housework (she’s not a home-maker, he is very orderly). His sleeping was off and I could tell that he was getting ready for a seizure any time. On our way back to the airport to leave after the wedding, he was telling a story while we were eating in Panera. I was having a hard time following him because he was confusing some names and he became very agitated and began screaming at me. This was the first time I had become the target. He threatened to leave me in Iowa and called me a fucking bitch. I was hysterical with sadness and called my Mom and she was scared and wanted me to just stay away from him. We didn’t speak until 4 days later because I didn’t know where we stood.

He was my absolute best friend and I felt like I could actually be myself for once. I was able to let go of the guard and not feel judged all the time for saying whatever was on my mind. It could be hateful, racist, and he would just laugh…I didn’t feel threatened.

In August, as we were getting back on track, he announced that he was looking at houses in Florida (he also decided to stop his Lithium). He wanted to be near water and warm weather (his mood was affected by weather). Thing is, he never asked me to go with him, what I thought about the move…nothing. He asked me about the houses he was looking at but not in a way that was planning a future for “us”. It was all about him. At this point, I was having major ups and downs and was dealing with a decision of whether to have a procedure to help some period issues I was having. If I did the surgery, then kids were never going to be in my future. With him having had a vasectomy, I wasn’t bothered because we weren’t going to have kids anyway.

His move was coming up and after telling him I loved him and wanted to go with him, he wouldn’t definitively say Yes or No to my joining him so I was confused and living in limbo. I made him promise not to move before my surgery in October. He ended up leaving a week before and 2 days after my surgery, I was on a business trip to L.A.

I spoke with him briefly during that trip but I was all over the place in meetings and was dealing with some complications from the surgery. When I got back, I got immediately ill for 2 weeks with bronchitis. I completely lost my voice and was off of work. I was depressed beyond anything before. He accused me of giving him the silent treatment and told me goodbye via email. I literally couldn’t speak… I wouldn’t eat, shower, slept all the time (when I could stop coughing). I was missing so much work and didn’t care. Thanksgiving came and went and that’s when I called my Dad and told him I couldn’t cope anymore and needed help. At the beginning of December 2014, he drove up to help me put a plan together. He was also very sick with a head cold and although I was getting my voice back, I was still coughing a lot.

Jamie and I were emailing a bit during this time and he let it slip that he was going back to Europe once again for the holidays. His ex’s family is family to him and he was going back to see them again because they were “begging” him….whatever.

This sent me over the edge and while my Dad was sleeping in my room, I crawled into a ball on my steps, cried hard and decided I had enough. I grabbed all the pills I could find and researched what dosage I could take to make me die. I wrote my wishes on a note, took a mixture of Percocet and a muscle relaxer and went to sleep. It didn’t work and I woke up to my Dad in my kitchen. I slurred that he needed to get me to the hospital or I was going to swallow the rest of the pills.

I felt nauseous and staggered to the sink when I passed out. I awoke to a cop over me asking me if I was trying to hurt myself. I was hospitalized, then sent to a MI ward for 3 days and immediately started seeing a Nurse Practitioner and Therapist. (I begged for a Psychiatrist). Jamie called me while I was in the hospital ICU and I admitted to what I did. It seems like it was all about him but everything that has been going in since 1999 was leading up to this.

7 months later, my ex from D.C. has disappeared just like he did in 2000. No explanation or anything…just gone. I confided in him about Jamie and my suicide attempt in December. He promised to be my friend and help me through it. I even scheduled an all day layover to spend with him in February of 2015 but again, he is just gone.

After going to spend 10 days with James in March 2015, I was feeling good about being friends. We were intimate yes but I made it very clear why I was sleeping with him. He had begun dating someone. He doesn’t understand why I can’t bear to hear about him fucking someone new.

Therapy with a “grief counselor” got me nowhere…it wasn’t about my past and patterns, it was all about grieving a break-up to her.

I quit my job in June 2015 because I couldn’t keep it together….my meds worsened my anxiety to the point where I couldn’t sit and concentrate. I ended up in the ER earlier that June because of the reaction to my BP meds. I’d had 1 good week in 10 months and felt worthless, alone, and fake the rest of the time.

I spent a year living with my Dad, jobless and trying to regroup. It started out with the all day sleeping, not eating, just miserable. Slowly I began to emerge after a change in my meds. Almost a year to the day, I moved back home to be closer to a larger support system.

It’s now August 2017 and although I am functioning much better, it’s like December 2014 and everything before and everything I told my friend and family wasn’t ever said.

If I told my family I had XYZ cancer, I’m sure they would research it. Telling them that I am BP II falls on deaf ears. It’s not a disease that is treated by your regular doctor, it’s not something like a cold. It’s EVERYDAY and it’s ALL THE TIME-Chronic! But it’s easy to forget about because if you’re smiling then everything is OK! I continue to be fake and out of place. And although it’s not cancer, it’s just as deadly.

*Names were changed

#bipolar #depression #suicide #myfirstpost #probablymyonlypost

0 notes