My office husband and I take in the "new" Meadowlands:
Look at the rock star:
My boss was also in town. Slowly but surely she's figuring out that I hang with the bad boys, and she's actually sort of proud. She claims I'm good at networking -- it took a lot of willpower not to reply If that's you call showing a little leg and having guys get you drinks -- and gave me an amazing compliment: "You look so happy. You must be in love."¹
I can't recall the last time I've been so comfortable in my own skin. I'm still not ready to date -- I went on a few recently and just kind of shut down during the last one -- but the IT cronies are helping.
I went out with one of the guys on Wednesday. Sitting in the sun at a rooftop bar we ordered the booze not served at the beer-and-wine-only event the previous night. After four drinks each -- three on him -- we called it a night. During the train ride to the city, we somehow got to talking about Green Day. He asked what my favorite song was, and I answered "Jesus of Suburbia."
"Mine too!" he replied, and he inched into the seat between us, a gesture so young and innocent -- except he's not young and I'm not innocent.
I like how things are, that the pressure is off with these men. I can flirt as much as I want, but there's that line that none of us will cross, so it never gets uncomfortable. Too bad dating can't be as fun as hanging out with them.
¹ Here, I didn't hold back my immediate response and said: "I'm in love with my bike!"