Not A Bad Thing

1 - Lazy Mondays & Crumpled Newspapers

I sighed tiredly as I walked out of my apartment on a somber Monday morning. I practically had to drag myself around to make it on time to my job. Covering the bags under my eyes had taken longer than I had expected.

It was my fault for staying up late, really. What could I do, though? I loved to watch old reruns and old movies. Those were the side effects of not having a stable relationship. I mean, I went out a lot in dates with guys and I even slept with the ones I got to know well –not that they knew we were not in an exclusive relationship, but I did not really care about them.

They just bored me to death. It was hard to find someone that kept my interest going for more than a couple of weeks. All they cared about was sex, anyway. I had not met that one exciting guy yet. One that would make me want to leave all the other ones behind. So, The Breakfast Club for the twentieth time on a Sunday night it was.

Just like every other day, my dearest coworker and friend George had been waiting for me at least fifteen minutes outside the steps to my old apartment building.

There was not an elevator, so I had to go up and down the stairs every day, at least two times a day. In high heels. I would never leave this place though; it was my home. For me to have peace of mind, I always said it was good exercise and it was hard to find a good place that was not expensive in the Big Apple.

George always pursed his lips in disbelief at my remarks but ended up coming over very often anyway.

"You always take so much time!" he complained as I pecked his cheek just like every day. "Are you ugly?" he asked next, completely serious.

"No," I replied with a giggle. We had this same quarrel all the time, so I knew where this was headed. After a while of being friends with someone, you got to know them pretty well and they became predictable to you.

"Well, then why do you take so much time to get ready?" he snapped, just like I had expected him to do.

I only shrugged in response. "I liked dressing up," I rebutted with a sly smirk.

We had gotten very close in the past four months. We worked together and lived nearby. When I first started working at Glamour -five months ago- we had gotten along. We even worked nearby, meaning our offices were close to each other and shared the same assistant, and everything, but once we bumped on the way to work, about a month after I had started working there, we just knew we would become great friends quite soon.

I loved being his friend. He was a funny guy who had great taste in clothing and who loved old movies and romanticism just as me. He did not even have to bother on telling me he was not interested in women, it could be noticed five miles away. I was glad that my radar was just fine and I could still detect gay men after twenty four years.

I started to walk along with him, noticing he had a newspaper folded under his arm. He did that sometimes, to catch up with the business world, since he was aiming for that branch of the broad world in New York City.

It had been two years, he once told me, since he had started working at the Glamour magazine. He loved it, it allowed him to stay trendy and he had met me -can we coo together-, but his dreams and heart were somewhere else. He had mentioned that last statement quite a couple of times, over a glass of wine and lame late nights with Game of Thrones.

The newspaper under his arm was a more frequent action, though, I had noticed. I knew it meant he would soon leave this job, and me. It was sad, but I knew he really wanted that, and I was not going to be the one to stop him. That just urged me even more to ask him to move in with me. I did not want for us to drift apart, and to live together would be the perfect solution to that.