For the past three years, I’ve been flirting with one of my coworkers.
I try to park my car right beside Tony’s red truck in the lot so that we can walk in and out of the building together.
I make sure to take my coffee and lunch breaks at the same time as he does. Whenever possible, I find a reason to walk by Tony’s office. I’ve been waiting and desperate for him to ask me out. Two weeks ago, he finally asked me to go out to dinner. He offered reservations at a super fancy Italian restaurant downtown. Since our plans were for Saturday evening, I had all day to get ready. I went shopping and bought a new outfit. I got my hair colored, cut and styled and invested in a manicure and pedicure. Although the outside temperature was in the high eighties with brutal humidity, I chose a long sleeve dress because I expected the air conditioning in the restaurant to be blasting. I didn’t want to shiver the whole time. During the drive downtown, I cranked the air conditioning in the car and pointed the vents straight at me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any nearby parking which forced me to walk six blocks. By the time I arrived at the restaurant, I was damp with sweat. I looked forward to the air conditioning inside the venue. I quickly realized that there was an air conditioner issue. The restaurant was terribly overheated. Throughout the meal, sweat ran down my face. I had wet stains under my arms. I drank too much water and needed to excuse myself to the bathroom four times. Because of the air conditioner malfunction, my first date was a disaster.