Not that I don't desire it, but it has always made me uncomfortable. I'm twenty-three, and still when my father comments on my beauty, I cower and say, "Daaad."
At work, we are separated by cubicles, in the far back corner of the office. Diagonally across from us, sits our supervisor and her desk. I would describe her, but it occurs to me just now, how irrelevant her appearance is to the point. The point is, that on her table, there is a framed photo of a 4 or 5 year old boy, grinning a big 4 or 5 year old grin. The office is normally silent, save for instances when people find themselves having conversations on telephones. Everyday at about 10am or 11am, a special telephone call breaks the silence. Everyday at about 10am or 11am, this woman calls her 4 to 5 year old son (specifics be damned), and the entire office overhears her gush adoringly, on the phone, saying things like, "hell-o baby! how are ya? did you eat?" "what'd you eat?" "you're being silly!"
everyday.
i don't have many strong feelings and or opinions about this woman beyond this. she is neither the best nor the worst boss, and i barely know anything about her personality - in fact, i imagine our interests wildly differ even beyond our generational gap. but everyday at this time, this women becomes my hero. how unapologetic she is, in taking up this phone call - as important to her if not more so than any incoming or outgoing call dealing with her actual job.
"i love you, okay?" she always says.
then she hangs up her phone, turns to me, who has been awkwardly standing in the corner, staring at her two feet, and says, "ok yeah, what do you need?" I stutter, and stumble because love has made me uncomfortable.
Love has always made me uncomfortable.
At work, we are separated by cubicles, in the far back corner of the office. Diagonally across from us, sits our supervisor and her desk. I would describe her, but it occurs to me just now, how irrelevant her appearance is to the point. The point is, that on her table, there is a framed photo of a 4 or 5 year old boy, grinning a big 4 or 5 year old grin. The office is normally silent, save for instances when people find themselves having conversations on telephones. Everyday at about 10am or 11am, a special telephone call breaks the silence. Everyday at about 10am or 11am, this woman calls her 4 to 5 year old son (specifics be damned), and the entire office overhears her gush adoringly, on the phone, saying things like, "hell-o baby! how are ya? did you eat?" "what'd you eat?" "you're being silly!"
everyday.
i don't have many strong feelings and or opinions about this woman beyond this. she is neither the best nor the worst boss, and i barely know anything about her personality - in fact, i imagine our interests wildly differ even beyond our generational gap. but everyday at this time, this women becomes my hero. how unapologetic she is, in taking up this phone call - as important to her if not more so than any incoming or outgoing call dealing with her actual job.
"i love you, okay?" she always says.
then she hangs up her phone, turns to me, who has been awkwardly standing in the corner, staring at her two feet, and says, "ok yeah, what do you need?" I stutter, and stumble because love has made me uncomfortable.
Love has always made me uncomfortable.
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