His “Professor”

Pretty Ricky’s professor ended up pushing the term paper due date back a week, so it was due yesterday instead of last Monday. We spent almost 6 hours in his office finishing it up on Sunday. He had sent my rough draft to his twin brother, who’s a college professor. His brother chopped it up some and added some helpful advice/remarks, so we basically went off of those as well as making our own edits. I wasn’t necessarily in agreement with everything Pretty Ricky wanted to do, but at the end of the day, it is HIS paper, so I let him be in control (or at least feel like he was). He’s taken to calling me “Professor.”

In between working on the paper, he ordered Chinese for us and we talked and goofed around some. Just think, back in July I’m bitching him out for talking shit about me and we’re not speaking or barely speaking since then, and now we’re like the best of friends. Or something like that. He’s still keeping me at arm’s length though because I noticed that the number he gave me is to one of the two work cell phones he has, and I’ve noticed he doesn’t carry this second cell phone on him often because he has his main one and he doesn’t really need it. But it’s a required piece of equipment – we all got one – so that’s really the only reason he has it. I guess he’s reluctant to give me his real phone number just because of our history. The funny thing is, I have it. I just can’t use it.

Our dinner outing was originally supposed to be tonight, but it’s finals time for him as the semester comes to a close so he wants to buckle down and concentrate. He last day is Dec 7th and he suggested then, so next Tuesday it is. It’s all rainy and dreary today anyway.

I find myself still attracted to him. I was from the first night I laid eyes on him and remained so even through all the drama and the many times we weren’t speaking. Sunday, I happened to glance at his hands and I remembered how they used to touch me. I still remember the first night we spent together almost two years ago now where I left his house the next morning with hickies all over my boobs and chest and neck. I remember how he loved to go down on me, and certain texts he sent me like “When can I suck on that juicy pussy?” I remember leaving his bed one morning and being right back to work with him that night, exchanging casual words and innocent banter with him around other people like we’d never seen each other naked. The secrecy of it was a huge turn on.

But alas, then came the “feelings” and from there the rejection and the hurt and the drama and now…here we are. Who knows how long this will last or what will come of it. For all I know, we’ll end up getting into it again somehow and will be right back to avoiding eye contact with each other soon enough. But for now it’s kind of nice to have reclaimed an old friend. When we fell out, I missed him as a lover, but also just as much as a friend.

I wouldn’t be against us winding up in bed together next week, to be quite honest. He was great in bed, that’s for sure. He’s still hot, clearly. And obviously I could use some.

In other news, Mr. Smooth threw a party on Saturday, and I went. It was wack. There was, like, no effort put into it. The venue was in a borderline neighborhood and the party was held in a big, white, homely looking room. No attempt at decor. The crowd was also very borderline. If I had to guess, I’d say they went and sold tickets in the projects. Lots of hoodrats and dudes who think wearing sunglasses inside at night is the business. The room was dark, the music was blaring, and the room was mostly dance floor, so really, it was more so like a club. I don’t like clubs. I don’t dance unless I’m drunk; I more so like to mingle and talk to people and be seen looking cute. And thus I like chill bars and parties that provide for such, not club-like atmospheres.

Furthermore, the “bar” was merely a tiny table with two bartenders. Thus the drink line was about 20 minutes long. It was during a stint in this line that I first caught sight of Mr. Smooth. I looked slightly to the right and ah, there’s “Marie.” He was getting their drinks from behind the bar, a handy privilege afforded him as one of the party throwers. They both had on neon glow-in-the-dark bracelets. Gay. I’d end up seeing them quite a few times throughout the night, all hugged up. At one point they were dancing no more than 12 feet from me. I’m sorry, but she’s just not hot. She just looks old, and this came from one of my coworkers on her own accord. And she knows nothing about me and Mr. Smooth so it wasn’t like she was trying to appease me. She said “Marie” looks about 50. I’d say 45. For someone such as Mr. Smooth who likes to refer to his gray hairs as “highlights,” and fancies himself to be 28 instead of 38, I think it’s amusing that the new love of his life looks older than him.

But hey, I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder. He obviously thinks she’s attractive, so ultimately it doesn’t matter.

There was eventually a fight during which some dude (who actually happened to be one of the ones who insisted on wearing sunglasses) was knocked out cold. Curly actually had to jack up one of the people involved and throw him out. And on that note, I rolled out. I had to work in the morning anyway. And that was that.

Curly actually called me after I got home and wanted to come over. I was tempted, but since I had to get up for work in 2 hours it wasn’t happening. There probably was no point in me even going to sleep, but I managed to squeeze in an hour and a half anyway. He’s been being kind of nice lately. Like 2 weeks ago, he hit me up one morning to tell me he was in my area. I think I was in the gym or something though so I didn’t see his text right away and it was too late by the time I answered. He said he’d wanted to take me to lunch. Random, but sweet.

I got into it with a coworker this past weekend. I was the HBIC (head bitch in charge) on Saturday, and he clearly has a problem with me being placed in a supervisory role over him. The Sunday before this past one when I was also in charge, and again on Saturday, he said or did things that exhibit a defiance towards my temporary authority and were borderline insubordinate. We had words on Saturday during which I told him he needs to respect me as a supervisor, whether he likes it or not. He said he didn’t have to. Okay.

So later Saturday night (actually, while I was at the party), I saw that he’d posted a Facebook status that was obviously about me, talking about how respect is earned and not given, calling me a dumb ass, and some more stuff. I played into it and commented on it, telling him about himself. I advised him that for one, if he has anything to say to me, he needs to tell me to my face. And secondly, that as one of the laziest, most ignorant people I work with, he certainly has no right to talk about who should be in charge and who shouldn’t. I even sent him a text to clarify that he should say whatever he felt he needed to say TO me. Nothing. Okay.

The next morning, he didn’t say shit to me. I let our acting supervisor know what was going on and he said he’d speak to both of us later. Later in the morning I notice that some chick I don’t know was responding to the status he put up, and he started responding to it with more gripes that were clearly about me. Really? Could you be more juvenile and cowardly? We’re both at fucking work together and thus you have AMPLE opportunity to address me with any of your concerns, yet instead of talking to me directly, you again run to Facebook. I was determined NOT to go back and forth with him over Facebook, yet seeing him continue to run off at the mouth about me would’ve presented too great of a temptation, so I simply deleted my original comment so I wouldn’t keep getting the notifications for the status.

Near the tail end of the day, our acting supervisor called us in together for a pow wow, but nothing was resolved. Jackass maintained that I do not get to “demand” respect. I reasserted that I most certainly will if I’m in a supervisory role, because regardless of who is in charge, you need to respect the POSITION. You don’t have to like me or feel like I’m a good supervisor, but the fact is, obviously certain powers that be don’t agree with you or obviously I wouldn’t be placed in charge. And I also informed him, being as he’s a former Marine and wants to spout off about the military and this and that, that if he’s so gung-ho former military, then he should already know the fucking deal – you fucking follow orders and DON’T mouth off and act like an insubordinate fuck to someone in charge, regardless of your problems with the situation. Period. End of story.

At the end of the day it’s quite clear that he’s just resentful of the fact that I was placed in charge in lieu of him. He said he doesn’t see why me and another girl have been placed in charge from time to time when there are people senior to us (like he and several other people) to choose from. Again, SORRY. For one, as I told him, he doesn’t have that much more time on than me. He’s only senior to me by 2 years. For two, not only is he notoriously lazy, but he’s also very disgruntled and has a piss-poor attitude toward the job. Hmmmm, maybe that’s why you haven’t been placed in charge, retard. Grrrrrrrr….

On a brighter note, my gym kick is working well. Every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, I’m there. The only days I’ve skipped so far are Thanksgiving (but I made it up on Friday), and then on Sunday when I was helping Pretty Ricky. I’m already seeing results. Yay.

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