“I picked up a sentimental card first. And then remembered who you were. This one felt right.”
She went with accuracy instead. Because Work Boyfriend knows me. And she thinks I’m hawt.
Had a dude stop me at mile nine of my run yesterday morning. As I was literally nearing the end stages of dehydration. And tell me I was beautiful. And that he hopes someone tells me that everyday.
“Yep. Work Boyfriend tells me allll of the time.”
He probably didn’t understand. But also he wasn’t holding a gallon of ice cold water. So, I had little interest in extending the conversation. Because I’d run out of water at mile eight. And it was five million degrees.
On Friday. As I was leaving work. Confections Queen asked me what my favorite dessert is.
I said the first thing that came to my mind.
I could have picked any number of other desserts. That are easier to create. And that may not have elicited the disapproving noise in reponse.
But she already thinks I’m a jerk face. So I went with my gut. And I’m glad I did.
Because today. I found this in the breakroom fridge.
And I could have pulled it out. And cut into it. And indulged there at my desk.
But I was wearing jeans.
With a button. And a zipper.
A cake like that deserves to be savored.
And I can savor far better in the comfort of my own home. Without pants.
And I kept explaining that to people. And they just kept saying, “Take a picture of it.”
I’m not sure they understood what they were asking for a picture of…
Maybe they meant just the cake…?
Anyway. Apparently word got out. That this cake was existing.
And the vultures. That descended upon my office…
Ghost and Tommy came rolling in like SWAT. “Where is it?”
Where is what???
And started searching my entire office.
The fuck are you looking under my desk for??
“Where is the cake?”
You think I’m gonna put that cake on the floor under my desk???
“You’ve done stranger things.”
No, that’s fair.
But I absolutely have more respect for food than that. Hell, I have more respect for food than for myself.
Work Boyfriend just kind of hovered. Outside my office. Making eyes at me. Several times.
“Just. When you do decide to cut into it, I wouldn’t say no to a piece.”
And the horde that was waiting. As I tried to get out of the office. At the end of the day.
The desperate hungry looks in the eyes of my co-workers.
The veiled threats.
The quid pro quo reminders.
I felt unsafe.
But I made it out to my car.
Because I’m a warrior.
And I’ll be peer pressured into a lot of things. But I will fight for my food.
And I made it home. With Aphrodite still in one piece.
I did name her Aphrodite.
A work that amazing deserves a name.
So, I took Aphrodite inside.
And Confections Queen had given me instructions.
I don’t really remember what they were. Something about popping and locking or lifting or something about the lid being hard to open and not accidentally throwing the entire cake across the room in haste and… I just remember that the instructions started with, “First have a beer.”
I may have inserted that first step myself.
But whatever. It worked.
I safely got Aphrodite out of her top.
My goddess, she’s beautiful.
And she tastes exactly the way she looks.
And now I have to figure out how any other dessert will ever be as good as Aphrodite.
And I totally wouldn’t have blamed any of my co-workers for fighting me for her.
But they also wouldn’t have survived it.
And Confections Queen. And all of my people. Are making it hella hard to leave this place at the end of the school year.
The good news is, I can always find Confections Queen here when I run out of scones. Or need another Aphrodite.
(See how smoothly I plugged her business there? But for real, you need a cake or something, you should click that link. She should absolutely be making a living by creating pleasing things for people’s mouths.)
And I feel like I should let those that I told that I was going to just strip off my pants and settle in on the floor straddling this cake and just digging into it…know that I did not actually do that. It was all very respectable. And dignified. Mostly.