Just Another Typical Day

I came into the office this morning and opened my safe. Before even getting the door open, I was hit with a wave of weed smell coming out. 

“Perfect,” I thought. Even my thoughts are sarcastic. I hate the smell of weed.

I work in a diamond dealer’s office, which is probably one of the sketchiest places a person can work. Apart from the constant keeping of paperwork to prove that you are not a money laundering agency, there’s cameras in every office, plenty of insurance fraud throughout the industry, and pretty much every other dirty underhanded trick in the book. Most of the industry is made up of religious Jewish people- many from Israel or Long Island. Almost everyone is in the industry because they grew up in it and their family runs the business. This only contributes to the sketchiness in most cases.

My boss and I are the only people who work at my office. I’ve been here about a year and a half and we’ve developed a good relationship. Not unlike the family run businesses, a certain amount of illegal activities and general sketchiness probably strengthens the bond. I’m a trustworthy employee with no moral qualms so long as no one is actually getting hurt. Therefore, an ideal partner in crime.

Yesterday my boss informed me that our mutual friend in the industry was coming over at 5 pm.

“Oh. Really? He’s coming here?” I had asked. Usually we met up with him and went to dinner or something.

 “Yeah. And the tech guy. We’re meeting a new dealer.”

Our old dealer had been caught recently and got in some trouble with the cops. He had supplied a number of ‘party favors’ for our Christmas party, which had ended in a strip club with my friend getting his first lap dance from a woman dressed as Santa Claus. 

“You know, I see the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life working here.”

“What? In this industry?”

“In this office. Specifically.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” my boss had said. “I’ve told you- we’re a ‘full service’ operation over here. The only thing we don’t do is prostitution.”

Apparently, we draw the line somewhere.

Boundaries.

I’ve been incredibly lonely lately. I realized that I am closer to my roommate (a girl I have known for less than 3 months) than I have been with any boyfriends I’ve had in the last 3 years. This may be because she is not someone I am trying to impress, and I make less than no effort to “keep the mystery alive.” How anyone does it in marriage is beyond me. 

Some example conversations I have had with my roommate that exhibit the nature of the relationship include:

• Bowel movements, including the phrase “I spent the whole day in the bathroom. I was basically just shitting a pile of wet sand. It was probably the tacos.”
• Vinegar faces. “So, when he cums, he bites his tongue in his cheek and I couldn’t figure out why I recognized it for a while. But THEN I realized it’s the same face my grandma makes when she’s concentrating really hard.”
• Dietary habits. “I am too lazy to cook. I think I am going to eat these Chef Boyardee raviolis from the can. Don’t judge. Less dishes.”
• Health issues. “…you know how sometimes when you have diarrhea and there’s sometimes blood in it?”
• Relationships. “Do you ever wake up because you farted in your sleep, but then you wonder ‘Wait. Was it him?’ I just can’t wait until we can cross the ‘fart boundary.’ I have been holding it in like crazy.”

Me dashing out of the kitchen, but less blood.

This morning we crossed the threshold of “apartment nudity” when she came upstairs to find me cutting up cucumbers in the kitchen- naked. (Yes, I get ready for work completely naked until the last minute when I finally cave to being confined by conventional clothing. No, I did not know she was home.)

As soon as I saw her coming, I ran off to my room (knife still in hand, probably looking like Christian Bale on his hooker killing spree in American Psycho) and she yelled down the hall after me “Dude! I don’t CARE that you’re naked!” For having met this girl on Craigslist 3 months ago, I’d say I hit the jackpot.

Moronically upbeat mug... I want one.

I’m not saying I would want to have all (or any) of these conversations with a significant other, but it’s nice to just be able to let your guard down and do/say whatever you want around someone. I’ve never gotten there with a boyfriend. I’m always jealous of people in these happy, carefree, completely non-PC  relationships. How do people FIND people who accept them for who they are?! Even after months of dating, I always still feel the need to keep constantly shaved legs, NEVER talk about anything that occurs in the bathroom, will not take off makeup in front of him, and definitely don’t go completely caveman on my food like I do when I’m alone. Not even when I’m drunk!

  

Maybe I’m just one of those people who wasn’t meant to have a One.