Don’t Do It! (Meeting Denny)

It’s his Prada cologne that gets me. The other reason I’m drawn to Denny is that I can’t tell if he’s gay or not. His mannerisms say ‘no’, but his fitted Express shirts whisper ‘maybe’. He looks like an Italian version of Lip on ‘Shameless’.

He has big gorgeous eyes that never seem to blink, framed by long dark lashes that make me want to pressure my doctor into prescribing me Latisse. Denny has a strong jawline, sharp features, and a very masculine face. Plus, like I said, he smells fucking delicious.

I flirt with him relentlessly, mostly because my new job at the Evil Corporation is so easy, and my coworkers are so stupid. This frees me up to focus on bigger issues, like my growing, and often crippling loneliness.

Jess, the only person I like at the firm, calls me a couple weeks after we start while she’s outside smoking.

Dude, you’re never going to guess what I just found out,” she says while exhaling into the speaker.

That God is real, and we get to go to hell tomorrow instead of work?”

There’s a long silence as she tries to figure out what I just said and if she should respond. Jess smokes a shit ton of pot which is why she’s the only coworker I can stand.

She must decide to ignore me because all she says is “No dude, Denny is gay!

My heart starts beating fast, but I’m skeptical.

How do you know for sure…. did you see him with a dick in his mouth?”

I light my own Camel on the other end. It’s just hard to trust someone who can never remember where she parked her car, or which bank she uses.

I heard him arguing really loudly with a guy on the phone in one of the conference rooms, and when he came out I asked him if everything was ok


He said yeah, my ex is just such a dickhead

This is excellent work Jess, really I couldn’t be more pleased

Yeah, but maybe you shouldn’t do anything with him since he is part of management…

Ummm, we hate this job remember?”

Jess goes back in, probably to smoke pot in the cafeteria bathroom, and I head into the sober trap house I share with Ashton. I grab my laptop, pop open G-mail, and use my impeccable memory to type in Denny’s work email.

Hey this is Nick, I’m new, I have a real quick work-related question. Text me when you get home please’.

Then I leave my number.

Not three minutes later I have a text from an unknown number, and of course, it’s him. I knew he liked me, if not he would have waited until he got home that evening.

We text endlessly, and I mean endlessly for a week about nothing and absolutely everything.

It’s late evening the first time it happens. I often work late since I have the peculiar inability to tell people ‘no’ even when I don’t respect them. We’re supposed to meet in the conference room by leasing at 8pm.

It’s 7:55 and I’m tingling with anticipation, trying to get a drunk property manager from California off the phone. Jess’s desk is next to mine, but she’s already been briefed on my covert meeting. I am worried about walking past LaTisha’s desk though.

At 7:59 I walk quietly to the East side of the enormous tower and steal a glance at LaTisha who is painting her long fake fingernails while somehow managing to simultaneously shove red-hot Cheetos into her mouth. Personally, I love all of the minority hires because they are always much more colorful than the sad drones that make up most of our group.

Although, I am a little concerned that LaTisha is going to need one of those special office chairs that looks like a love seat on wheels if she doesn’t lay off the Cheetos, but I digress.

Denny is already in the dark conference room when I slip through the door. I start to make a witty joke about needing overtime pay but he puts a finger to his lips, and I take the hint as he locks the door.

I’m not going to get into specifics because this is not THAT kind of blog, but let’s just say it’s one of the most intense experiences of my life. (And if you’ve been reading for awhile I’m sure you can gather there are many, many, many up for comparison).

Before putting our clothes back on we both stand at the floor to ceiling windows, high above the streets, and admire the lights from the city’s skyline. It must have started snowing while we were on the floor, the first of the season. We stand there for ten minutes, both trying to catch our breath before Denny has to get back to his desk.

Outside on Fifth Avenue, I light a cigarette and head for the parking garage. The city is barren, and the snow is starting to stick to the dirty sidewalks.

I laugh out loud into the darkness as I pull headphones out of my bag, in love with my life for the first time in years.


  1. This seems to be quite the different tone from previous posts about Denny. I’ve always wondered when reading your blogs what you first thought of him was and I can finally see that now. I don’t know, for me, reading this just came off as a tone of “well-wishing” for Denny, even if that tone was an accidental act of counter-intuitive generosity. Though considering you have a post about him with a comment on waiting to read his obituary, I’m now thinking my current analytic here is inaccurate.

    Nonetheless, I’ve been enjoying your writing. Maybe one day we your audience will be able to get the side of the story of those you write about so we can get the full picture of your life experiences.

    1. Nothing in life is one sided, the people you love the most are often the people you end up hating the most…i encourage then to write!

      Until then thank for reading…working tirelessly on the novel:)

      1. Curiously, your title reads, “Don’t do it!”. Naturally, it begs to be asked, do you regret that first night?

          1. I’m not entirely sure of that. At first reading your blog I developed an idea that you may be a sociopath but the more I read about you and all these people you’ve bombarded into. I mean, I can’t help but think if all of their actions you write about are simply reactions to you once the facade starts to fade and they genuinely get to see the real you behind closed doors. Take Denny for example. Something drew you into him. Something led you to live with him, make a home with him, adopt two dogs, etc. Just like something most likely shifted him to becoming a different person than who you met this night in the conference room. Maybe it was your drug use, your cheating, or him realizing he just wasn’t enough to keep you sober. But the way your wrote about him and others is filled with such maliciousness. But hey, that’s just my “outer circle” perception right?

          2. Obviously we’ve met in real life. Did you know that my parents paid for the fees that adopted the first rescue dog? That when I had to put him down I put the $2,400 on a Chase card and texted Denny with no response? Probably not because all we are is who we present to the world. You are probably more like me than you’d like to admit, unfortunately no one will ever know who you really are or what you want. Denny was the worst, and he belongs with the people who my family looks at with our windows rolled up and our doors locked.

            Keep reading, glad you are following my misadventures.

          3. “belongs with the people who my family looks at with our windows rolled up and our doors locked.” Wouldn’t you fit into that category as well? Or is there a worse group of people than those who frantically do drugs and get paid for sex? I’m not judging but perhaps some self-perception would help your writing as you reevaluate these misadventures rather than just publishing online the rants of a deficient individual. For example, you continuously default to your parents, the way you just did in your previous comment, about X amounts of money. You tirelessly talk about expensive gifts you received in exchange for “being you” and yet how exhausting all these people were as they allowed you into their lives. Yet you are the one who appears to be destructive incarnate. If you need proof to that statement you can look at your previous post about your girlfriend just leaving her BMW in a garage because you were both tired of parking it?

            Eventually, these people you latch on to, be it relationships/friendships/family, will eventually dissipate and then where will that leave you? Clinging to your keyboard trying to search for words that paint people around you as more horrid than you? One day, you will need to turn the keyboard on yourself with an unadulterated point of view. Rather than just the ramblings of a sociopath labeled “victim”.

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