SSG

"Oh my God! I saw him today!" would be my normal reaction to a select group of friends that are in contact with me on a daily basis.  "He saw me and I saw him and we locked eyes and he waved! I'm in love with him.  Mentally, I'm pregnant and carrying his baby!" This would be my reaction every single time I saw this man.

Sexy Sales Guy was a stellar young fellow.  He stood a mere 5'7'' or 8'', yet had the phsyique of a tennis player.  He was not muscular in respects to being meat-head, yet toned and defined.  I speak of him in past tense. 

I work for a company that is housed in a building. It is a  building in which it accommodated four other companies.  Floor one housed two companies.  You are able to apply for a mortgage loan and file reports to the state on this level.  Floor two is home to the creative minds of McDonald's Happy Meal toys.  Floor three allowed you illumination to your homes with light and find doctor's offices with scanners that can save your life.  Finally, floor four strategically finds solutions for your financial institution with research and data analysis.  Each floor has its importance for everyone.  Typically one floor per person involved.  In my case, I was worried about two.  You see, as I scurried along with the working folk to floor four, I always found myself in a chance encounter with a stetson young fellow who illuminated one's world.  Not only did he do this for his clients, he did so for me.

One day, I had taken notice of this man who illuminated everyone's world and thought to myself, "Wow!" Now, not many people are able to put me in this "Wow!" frenzy, but he did.  He is Sexy Sales Guy.  Every time I took a glance at his chiseled, olive face, I thought to myself, "he's out of my league" and ended it at that.  My crush began to grow.  One day, as I was encasing my body with cancer, he pulls into the parking lot and brings a heavy case inside with him.  I, being prematurely finished with my cancer stick, head towards the door as if my much needed break was over and "by chance" (hey, sometimes you have to put fate in your own hands) help by opening the conversation with a crack at "You need help?" and end up opening the door.  The introduction begins, and names are announced.  Even a handshake was involved.  Some petty conversation rose and then, floor three arrived as we both said our goodbyes and I fluttered back to being a corporate lackey with a slight bit more of excitement in me.

Here and there we would run into each other.  More petty conversation.  He is a city dweller who rooted for the University of Michigan as I cheered on my Blue Demons during March Madness of 2009.  He loved to exercise, as he took runs during lunch, and sometimes wore clothes that made me wonder if he ever modeled for Express. I can imagine him in a white button down shirt worn under a black blazer and with black trowsers.  His shoes, must be from Aldo's.  The collar is stiff and covers his neck as he turns his head slightly to the right at me and tells me he loves me (ok, this was a figure of my imagination, but he would look great in that outfit).   His brown eyes and dark hair made me wonder his origins.  Are they Latin, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern?  It was this notion. Sometimes, when he would walk down a corridor towards me, as I was entering in from the opposite end, he would look at me and then look down. He would then peer up to me with his beautiful brown eyes and smile with a one eyebrow slightly raised and say, "Hello, how are you" shyly.  His boyish timidness never overpowered him.  He managed to begin conversation with me, regardless of the hurry or not. Even when I was in a bad mood, and he was able to tell, the conversation would continue and I never minded (although I feel that one time he probably took notice and thought he was a nuisance when in fact I felt a client had ruined my life...you see this potential Three's Company-like misunderstanding can revere ones mind in a different direction if taken the wrong way).  Never the less, the conversation, as petty as it was, was fantastic.  It was fantastic because this man took notice of who I was.  I felt a bountiful of importance, considering that I think he's out of my league, it's a compliment to me when we spoke.

Then one day, I decided to do it.  I found out that Sexy Sales Guy's company was leaving.  I didn't know what to do.  In a state of sheer sadness, I decided to do the ultimate act that no other girl would do for someone who had constant petty conversations with another man.  After the New Year, I decided to take things one step further.  I decided to buy him a "Happy New Years Card".  (Digression: Hallmark will do anything for a buck, Seriously, who the hey thinks of that?  I was looking for a leftover Christmas card and only found box sets.  Then, I was given the direction of the Happy New Years card...WOOHOO! Saved!).  This card was simplicity at its finest.  On the cover, it had some bear with a star under "Happy New Years" and inside had some shit like "Wishing you a Happy New Years" blah blah blah.  Very friendly, no references for me wanting to give him my hymen.  Nothing.  Just a simple Happy New Years.  I proceeded to add in a reference of conversation.  "Maybe this March you can root for the DePaul Blue Demons instead of Michigan :)"  We have had many conversations about our colleges and where we both came from.  I thought to myself, he has to be an idiot not to know who this is. 

And so, I placed the card in the envelope, wrote his name neatly on the cover of the envelope and placed it on his car as I had planned un-strategically and constantly that began just three weeks prior to the act.