Dating for Normies

Mikaela, my incredibly beautiful boss, is staring at me. Mikaela is part Swedish and part English Rose, think Kate Beckinsale, but with Scandinavian blue eyes. She’s smiling in that way only she does. It’s disarming and entrancing, almost hypnotic. I’m drifting back into my daydream of the two of us together, kissing on a picnic blanket on top of the Ta’ Ċenċ Cliffs of Gozo Island, Malta. I saw an influencer couple share the same image on their Travelgram, and I’ve been dreaming of my own romantic sunset ever since. Whenever I’m around Mikaela, she makes me feel like it’s meant to be. We have a connection. I’m sure of it. I feel it in my bones. Even the way she’s smiling at me now feels personal like we’re sharing a secret that nobody else is in on. I know it’s a weird thing to say about your boss, but we’re the same age, and she’s not actually my boss. She’s just more senior than I am and is in charge of certain projects that I work on, so it’s not weird. Okay, it’s a little weird, but—Mikaela tilts her head like she’s waiting for me to respond to a question. I look around the room, and everyone is staring at me as if to confirm it.

“Don’t you agree, David?”

Huh?

She softens her smile, and I swallow, “Mmhmm, yeah.” I nod my head, not knowing what I’m agreeing to. I can’t believe I’ve done it again. These daydreams are getting out of hand. I keep drifting off into space like I’m Zach Braff in Scrubs. Yes, I’m a millennial.

“Great. David and I will work together on the urgent proposal.” Her eyes flash back to me, and her lips tick up at the corners with a hint of playfulness. I glance around to see if anyone notices, but everyone is packing up their things as if the meeting is over, and I question whether I’m imagining it. “The rest of you can focus on the monthlies. Great meeting, everyone.”

Wait, is the meeting over? I swear it only just started. I came in, said hello to everyone and sat down. Not long after, Mikaela walked in with her long, dark hair, carrying fresh volume like she’d been to the salon over the weekend. It has this vibrant shine to it, shimmering under the incandescent lights, folding over her exposed shoulder like water over rapids. She was saying her hellos, leaving me until last, making prolonged eye contact. The sound of her voice carried my mind away in her current, all the way to the islands of Malta, and oh, I see the problem. I’ve been daydreaming this whole time, haven’t I?

Mikaela filters past our colleagues as they empty the room, leaving us alone. She runs her fingers over the tabletop, her red nail polish streaking promises of romantic seduction across the bland whiteness of the table, the room, the whole damn office. I go to stand, but she arrives at my feet too quickly, and now I’m stuck in the visual trap of her curves. I gulp down the thoughts, threatening to test the stretch of the cotton in my smart, navy blue chinos. At least they are a dark colour. I try to dress nicer when I know I have a meeting with her. I can’t help it.

“How was your weekend?” She asks casually like she hasn’t noticed the effect she has on me.

“Err, good, yeah, okay, thanks.”

I need to get out of this room before I lose control of this erection like a horny teenager watching American Pie for the first time in a classroom surrounded by his peers. Yes, that happened in the middle of a biology class. I had to hunch over to avoid detection. A bit like I’m doing now. I clear my throat and brave standing, adjusting my trousers as subtly as possible. Her eyes flick down momentarily, and for a split second, I fear I’m at full mast in the middle of the office. There’s a flush of heat over my face, and I cover my waist with the shadow of my laptop, grab my water bottle for resolve and walk us out of the room. I know this sounds like I’m extremely unprofessional, but you don’t understand. I’m a normie. I hardly ever date. I haven’t had—Mikaela touches my arm by the door, and my thoughts and bodily functions all freeze in unison. Electric pulses skim along my arm like stones on water, sending my heart skittering around my chest. This woman is going to give me a heart attack. She’s so close to me that I can smell the citrus-scented shampoo she uses. It smells like Bergamot, which is basically an orange to us normies. I googled it once, and it looks like a lemon, which is confusing, much like this intoxicating woman. There’s also a hint of Jasmine… Wait. Am I inhaling? Good god, man, get a grip!

“Thanks for agreeing to work late with me. I can always count on you.”

“No worries, happy to help.” I’m such a fool.

“Well, I’ll see you later. We might have to order in. It might take us all night.”

I swallow my wild imagination and try to keep myself together as the warmth creeps up my neck. I’m beginning to sweat, and I feel the sudden urge to run back to my desk to tuck myself underneath it real quick…. It’s going to be a long day.

Mikaela smiles in a way that’s going to have me over-analysing its subtext all day long. She walks away, and I spin on my heels so not to watch her like some love-struck weirdo and hurry back to my desk, only to be greeted by another smiling and strikingly pretty colleague, Elsa. Damn. I forgot how pretty she was. I say hello to my sharp-witted deskmate and do my best to act like a normal man who has his shit together, which I obviously do not. I feel hot. My internal rivers are running with electrical currents up and down my body, stopping in the most awkward and unprofessional place possible. I need to distract myself with work and, direct my focus to my computer screen and block out all these reminders of just how single I am. Then Lucie decides to walk by my desk, causing me to hold my breath. She’s wearing tan-coloured trousers that match her skin tone, and they’re so tight she looks naked at first glance. I almost pass out on a gasp that I do my best to stifle. I can feel Elsa’s eyebrow rising inquisitively, and I glance over my shoulder to catch her chuckling to herself. I have a bead of sweat running down my brow, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand and shake my head in disbelief. I know she’s laughing at me. She’s always teasing me, and I hate it because I find it highly attractive. I turn back to Lucie’s bum without even meaning to, and the way it bounces has my brain short-circuiting. I have to arrest myself for staring. I shake my head again and try to focus on the dozen emails in my inbox before I start drooling. There’s so much heat between my legs, I’m spreading them wide to make room for all the unwanted feelings. What is going on today? I try not to think of the fact that I haven’t dated anybody in months... but my last kiss was, what? Five months ago now. Christ, has it been that long?

“Hey, David.”

Shit.

Laura interrupts my thoughts. She leans over my desk and beams her happy smile at me, her blue eyes sparkling with innocent joy, like a data analyst’s office is the best place to be on a Monday. I gulp. My eyes are screaming at me to look down. Her bosom is bursting out of her dress like sunflowers in a bouquet. My heart lurches in my chest like it’s attempting to leap down her cleavage to find salvation from the desert of my barren sex life. Why is now the time that I remember that I haven’t had sex in over a year? Thirteen months and eleven days, to be precise. I try not to remember how awkward and uncomfortable that experience was. My anxiety is constantly ruining every part of my life with alarming ease. I swallow my embarrassment and search for salvation, locking eyes with Laura. She gives me a quizzical look like she knows what I’m thinking, but she doesn’t adjust her position. If anything, she sticks her bum out further and makes it worse. Laura is a very intelligent and confident woman, and I don’t think she knows how uncomfortable she’s making me, or perhaps she does. Perhaps secretly, she loves the feeling of making grown men crumble under her loaded stare. I’m too busy fighting the image of her holding a whip that I can barely hear what she’s saying about the upcoming presentation. When she finally stands, I realise she’s wearing a yellow and blue dress that seems inappropriately low-cut for the workplace, and I wonder why nobody warned me about the summer. I look around the office, and the bare legs and shoulders stand out to me like a horror movie jump scare. I’m not going to survive the summer. This is going to be hell. Somebody needs to fire me immediately.

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