Something very bizarre happened today.
New Boy, who, from my previous posts my regular readers will know is more than a bit of a yuppie, has, of recent weeks, been showing a little more interest in me than usual. His attentions have miraculously been deflected from Janine, our terrified typist, on to me, Michelle. Or, as I like to call my self now, Michelle, Extra-Marital Sexpot and World-Renowned Sexy Laydee. I think it's catchy.
Anyway. To be honest, I never really looked at New Boy before. He has always represented that sector of the business world I love to hate - the 30-something, financially-stable smug prick who thinks his BMW is a pussy-wagon and his degree from Manchester City actually worth something. Urgh. Today I decided to have a better look - out of curiosity really. He is not an entirely unattractive individual. He has a mole above his lip and a dimple in his right cheek which gives him this confused, lop-sided smile. The hair is pretty awful. The suits are equally as bad. He has a Spongebob Squarepants mug.
But he's sexy too. I mean, he has command of a room. Everyone listens to him when he speaks - even if they're overhearing some international phone call. Even me - I listen. Now I do anyway. And that's how I knew I had developed a little bit of a crush on our friend.
This worries me. Normally I have crushes on men with no balls. But New Boy has balls. If he found out about this little indiscretion I have a feeling I might try and take me roughly in the copy room.
I might like that.
But I have James.
Could I take a third?
Not at the same time you understand...
My head hurts.