That I woke up in Boss’ bed in the middle of the night, ran to a room I prayed was the bathroom (it was), and vomited all over a very clean toilet.
That after I cleaned up the gigantic mess I made, I saw that Boss’s bathroom was the exact opposite of Ian’s: clean, upscale, grown-up.
That when I climbed back into Boss’s bed, there was no Boss in it. (Thank you, God.)
That when I peeked into the living room, I saw him sleeping with one arm hanging off the sofa, snoring.
That after I knew nothing MAJOR happened, I spied around Boss’s apartment.
That the rest of the apartment is filled with shiny stainless steel appliances and marble countertops and every surface is so clean.
That I snuck out at five a.m. and called in sick yesterday.
That hangovers are no joke.
That I am never drinking again.
That Ian finally called me this morning and wanted to talk. I’m meeting him for lunch.
That I just made eye contact with Boss as he walked by my cubicle, and we both quickly looked away.
That I have made a huge, gigantic mess of my emotions.
That I have no idea what I’m going to tell Ian. Or Boss.
Ai ai ai … Maybe you need to figure out what you’re going to tell yourself …
This is why I’m team boss. He has a grown-up apartment, a grown-up job, and doesn’t smoke. Of course, dating your boss probably isn’t the best idea, so I could be persuaded to team ex-boyfriend. I don’t like Ian, though.
Not that I’ve been in a similar situation (or shall we say not that I’d admit to having been in a similar situation) but when this happened to me — I mean “if” this had happened to me, I would have called in sick. Good for you for going into work after a night like that. I may be moving over to the clean side — team boss.
O.M.G.
I am still proudly flying the flag of Team Ian (crest: two toyota corollas, rampant).
Awkward!