Chapter 5: The Medic

"Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option."
- Nina Potts-Jefferies

It was a Saturday morning, six o'clock in the morning, and the sunrise was filtering through the coconuts, paint the interior of Mommy's car in warm red and orange hues. I had managed not to fall asleep on this ride and was fortunate to be up, listening to a particular radio station when this quote was said.

I stared at the ocean, dark and glinting with specks of morning sun and my mind ran on Medic, and why it took me so long to realise that I was never his priority, just an option.

I need to stop chasing man-ho's. Full stop. Especially if they don't fit my shallow physical tastes. Thus, all future objects of distractions must be at least 6'0'' and taller because I like them cute and tall.

Yeah, Medic was about 5'6'' (definitely shorter than me at 5'10'' barefooted, and worse, i like my heels atleast 3 inches high). But I disregarded this because I used to have this shame for being shallow about guys and their height, especially since I'm tall for a woman. Height is a physical feature that is almost impossible to change without painful surgery. Medic was sexy, even though he was short. Plus, he had a masculine powerful something in his aura and I like power. So we talked and made plans.

Unfortunately, once a man-ho, always a man-ho...

I'm an only child. Only children are notorious for not sharing because, usually, we don't have to share. I'm not completely spoilt, and I don't think I'm unreasonable. I understand that I spend 8 months in a different country to him, and that he's quite attractive, and has many female friends; just as I am quite attractive and have many male friends. I would be out of place to insist that he broke off all contact with non-family member females to be with me. However, if WE are trying to start a relationship, then I don't expect that you invited me meet you at a club when not only are you going with another girl (who is NOT a family member but a potential), but you are picking her up from home AND I need to find my own way there.

The other part that hurt: The medic worked 2 week shifts: so every other two weeks he would be on shore, and have the time to do what he wish. So it would be reasonable to assume, since we're making plans, that he would make the effort to come see me atleast twice a week, maybe more. I saw him neither frequently, nor regularly, nor sporadically, nor enough times to be considered once a week in the 10 weeks I have been here. Maybe he did not have enough time, what with his partying, and liming, and driving, and going to the beach, to visit, or so his facebook status and photos say.

Oh well. I'm a big girl, and I'm leaving in a little more than a week. Plus, if this semester goes as planned (and I get that traffic stopping dress I was drooling over and a matching pair of hardwear for my feet to wear in Las Vegas in November), I won't even remember him as I'm sipping overpriced cocktails that some friendly sexy tall gentleman caller purchased for me while at Pure/Tao/The Palms.

But, full details to be given at Zinc to the rest of the C-I-T's, probably over the dark smooth strength of a Guinness. A Guinness has never failed me yet.

Chapter 4: Skirting the Issue

I’m not gonna lie. I have favourite pieces of clothing. They vary with time and space. This summer, in Trinidad, I was in love with my green wool plaid skirt.

Now, before you start generating schoolgirl fantasies, this was the grown up version: It was knee-length with only one pleat at the front, flat pockets and buttons to the front. Very haute coture.

So last week, I’m sitting at my desk, doing my work, when up comes another employee, always fashionable himself, and leans over me.

“You see that skirt you’re wearing? That’s my favourite skirt to see you in.”

I wanted to rip the skirt off and burn it immediately. I made the deliberate point to turn around and face him, look him up and down, and reply,
“It’s my favourite skirt too. I’d lend it to you, but I don’t think you have the legs for it.”

He smiled. “I said, that’s my favourite-”
I cut him off, smiling saccharinely sweet, but my eyes cold. “I heard what you said, but I assure you, the skirt won’t work for you. Is there anything else?”

He backed off.

I know what happened, and if I brought that to HR, that would have been a serious issue that could cost him his job. At that time, I had 10 more working days in the office, and really wanted to finish without incident. Plus, as much as that was creepy, there was an incident about the week before when I was having a “reaction” of some sort to something I either ate or was exposed to in the warehouse, he drove me to the nearest pharmacy and bought medication while I quietly spazzed out on the counter.

But that does not give him the right to sleaze passes at me.

Chapter 3: Footie Goes to University!!!!

I always get upset at negative people, because I find your life can’t be that bad that everything is always bad. Even in your worst times, some days are better than others.

Today was a good day. There will be no tales of the evils done by men driving me to drink. Today (or rather tomorrow) we drink to celebrate the fact that my friend Footie got his student visa successfully sorted out today. He was really worried, but come next week Monday or Tuesday, depending on if he gets his flight changed, he will be touching down in New Mexico for the first time.

I need to find a decent happy hour near work/en route to home. This deserves a celebatory drink! Cheers!