I had to stop what I was doing and just let out this memory of mine. I am listening to a “Divorced Dad Rock” station. It’s all my favorite alternative rock music from my early 20s. So, whoever the divorced dad was that made this, props to you, sir. We would get along well; wanna get coffee?
The current song is Cold by Crossfade. I used to play this song over and over again. It brings me back to a time when I was a baby career woman. I had a fling with a married man 20 years older than me. It was back when I still looked like a teenager. He most def was a perv, but back then that 100% did not register with me. Although to be fair, I was married to a man 12 years older than me at the time. In my defense, my perceptions were already skewed when it came to age gaps and how young I really looked.
Here I am thinking I am all cool and badass because Wes thought I was super cute and worthy of his attention, and he wanted me over his wife. He also wanted me over the other chick that was his own age who was constantly all over him. The ego boost was phenomenal.
Memories of Wes consist of sneaking around in stairwells to make out and very late-night conversations about, I don’t even remember what. The best memory I have of him was standing in the back workroom, and me being dumb, dared him to drop his pants. To my utter surprise, he did. That’s when I learned what it meant to be a grower, not a show-er. He was just the first of the interoffice work affairs I had.
His wife eventually figured it out thanks to that other very envious co-worker of ours. He was fooling around with her before me, and out of spite, she blabbed to the wife that he was at lunch with me when she called looking for him. Like a good wife, she showed up at work to bring him lunch and try to find me. Luckily, I wasn’t there that day and switched departments shortly after that. I also shelved him around the same time and told him he was too old when he became a grandpa. I was like 23 at the time. I didn’t care that he was old enough to be my dad; I cared when he became a grandpa– that was too much. Shallow much? Yep, and I don’t care. Even now, the idea of me being a grandma bothers me.
The absolute most ironic part about Wes, unbeknownst to me at the time, my sister was in school with his daughter. She still has no idea what occurred. Even worse, one of my exes was very good friends with his wife. The joys of living in a small town where everyone is separated by 2 degrees.
I have come a long way since the days of Wes. I have finally learned why married men are not a good idea. Though, as I write this… one word… him. Okay, so before him, I went through a very long period where I avoided married men. Even with him, I wasn’t looking for the ego boost that I was with Wes, and he was supposedly working on divorce. With Wes, I based my self-worth on getting one over on his wife. I didn’t know her, so I didn’t care. Again, in my distorted thought process, I enjoyed the attention I got. I was so starved and deprived of attention and affection that I didn’t care where it came from. My marriage sucked, and I hated my husband. I also believed the bullshit gaslighting about how he wanted me more than his wife, and I meant more. Yet, he would never leave her, and we never actually had sex; just a lot of inappropriate blurring of the boundaries. He was also a terrible kisser. I also saw him recently when I went home, and the dude didn’t age well… at all.
I will forever be grateful for the skills Wes taught me that pertained to work, and he will always be the man who showed me his penis in the back room. I am so glad that phase is long and over.
And my current coworkers have zero idea what I used to be like… their loss…
Nikki
Damsel vs Bipolar 