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The Pious Life

July 12, 2010

“Come to my house on Saturday for a BBQ Darcy! Hot work guy will be there!”
“He lives with his girlfriend remember? But I would love to see you.” A laid-back night with friends is what I needed right now, so i threw on a pair of shorts (and some kick ass wedges) and headed over to the shindig.

I know you are probably wondering who hot work guy is. It’s quite simple. Jill works for a guy who I find very attractive. It was crush at first sight when I met him 6 months ago at her office when I stopped by to grab lunch. We only talked a minute, but he was cute by anyone’s standards. He was a mix of JFK Jr and Christian Bale with a hint of Superman thrown in for good measure. My friend later informed me that hot work guy was divorced, with child. I had also learned over time that hot work guy had a serious girlfriend. They lived together. Great for hot work guy. Boring for me.

It was the perfect Hamptons dinner party. Small and intimate, no more than 10 people. It was set up beautifully in the backyard with tiki torches and citronella candles. Wine was flowing and Janet Jackson was playing. The perfect storm for bad lip syncing and faux dance routines performed by tipsy dinner guests.

I enjoyed getting to know Jill’s friends, and even got to learn a little about hot work guy who was there sans live-in girlfriend. I had learned that he was married, met his wife at a young age, they became more friends than anything else. He started to have an affair with now live-in girlfriend, which is when his then “live-in” wife became “live-out wife”. He announces this to me, a virtual stranger, as though he is catching me up on the latest episode of Entourage. He spoke from a place of complete detachment, as if it were a script he learned from a shrink, or his mother, or a judge. Hot work guy was a little odd. Maybe it was a kind of divorced parent camaraderie that made him feel like he could tell me his deepest darkest secrets, or maybe it was poor judgement. After I got to know him I bit I was happy he wasn’t mine, but he was easy on the eyes and just looking at him was entertaining.

After dinner I sat down to relax on an outdoor sofa of some kind wrapped in a pashmina, hair looking like a rat’s nest from the salt air and sea breeze. I was enjoying this perfect summer night. Suddenly, through the crowd of people eating dessert and possibly dancing the electric slide, I see hot work guy emerge from the crowd and make a bee-line towards me on the sofa. The sofa is big. Very big. An outdoor sectional of sorts. He sits directly next to me on the corner of the sofa. Did he just put his arm around me? I am pretty sure he now has his arm tightly fixed around my body. I smile awkwardly. I want to say hot work guy is drunk and mistakes us for being new best friends, but the sudden caressing of my thigh would lead me to think otherwise. He tells me he is glad we had a chance to hang out and I should come to Jill’s dinners more often. He tells me what a great place he is in since his divorce was finalized. He tells me he loves hanging out with Jill and this particular group of friends since no one is trying to have sex and none of his single friends are pushing him to get laid and none of his married friends who are “miserable in their marriages” are living vicariously through him. I start to wonder if hot work guy is a sex addict. I get the sense that he is selling me on his new-found wholesomeness, and nothing about it feels convincing. He has mentioned several times how he was so fixated on sleeping with women during his marriage and that he was very unfaithful. A self-proclaimed womanizer, but completely reformed. This, apparently, has all changed now that he is with his live-in girlfriend. Huh. That’s funny hot work guy. I could swear you are rubbing my thigh. I learn they (hot work guy and his live-in girlfriend) had hit a rough patch during his divorce, but they worked through it and are now in a better place because of it. Is he playing with my hair?? If this is a great place, I would hate to see a not great place. I am narrowing my eyes and contorting my face as though I am asking someone sitting across from me “WHAT THE FK?” but no one was there except my imaginary friend, sanity, who agreed this guy might be in-sane.

“Me and my girlfriend plan on having a baby next year together.” He announces, as he tightens his grip on my body. I am frozen in confusion. I now know what it must feel like to be a deer in headlights. You want to run but can only stare. He tells me he isn’t sure he wants more children, but he must have one with her to be fair to her as she has no children of her own.
“Maybe I should be dating someone who already has kids.” I pray he isn’t talking about me. Not it! I scream in my head. I don’t know that he heard me, but I am hoping he got the telepathic message.

Somehow I extract myself from hot work guys death grip and chit-chat with Jill a bit more. As the night is ending I announce I must be getting home. I say goodbye to hot work guy who may or may not start humping my leg by this point. The whole thing is so uncomfortable I am not really looking. I am more squinting, like I am watching a scary movie and I was afraid to see what came next. Hot work guy calls over to Jill, “This one is amazing!”
AWKWARD. Jill knows that he lives with his girlfriend and Jill knows his girlfriend.
He then turns to me.
“You are very lucky I live a pious life now Darcy or you would be in big trouble.” I wonder how pious a guy’s life can be when he is living with a woman and says this to a girl he just met. I smile quizzically. I am not up to speed on the pious life handbook, but I am pretty sure it would advise against such a thing. I tell him he is safe as I don’t date married men. At all.
“I am not married Darcy.”
But you just spent the entire evening telling me you are having a baby next year with your girlfriend, I think. I go to give him the token nice to meet you handshake, air kiss extravaganza when he grabs my face and kisses me. On the lips. Hard. He uses his tongue!!! I actually start laughing. In his face. I can’t even kiss him back because I am in a full belly laugh at this point, yet the narcissistic side of me is screaming “DARCY, HE IS GOING TO THINK YOU CAN’T KISS!” (Yes, I can be that vain)

I tell him that this is a horrible idea. Not only am I not interested in kissing or being kissed by someone with a girlfriend, but I don’t want to feel like I have to avoid Jill and Jill’s fabulous So You Think You Can Dance dinner parties. I tell him I need to get out of here before there is any more trouble.
“Oh Darcy, there is plenty of time for trouble,” he says, “the summer has just begun.” I actually feel dirty. It was so confusing. He looked so scrubbed and innocent like some type of all american football star, but at any moment he could have ripped off his face and revealed he was actually Ron Jeremy. I glance around to see if there is a sprinkler I can run through on my way to my car. Is that a slip-and-slide I see sprawled across Jill’s lawn? Maybe I can take a running leap onto it and rinse off. YUCK. CLEAN ME.

Anyway, just like that, hot work guy turned into hot jerk guy.  Another crush bites the dust.

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