misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

Faithful readers will remember my Cinco de Mayo blockbuster blog regarding a girl at my work, her boyfriend, and some unfaithfulness in the piss-stained bathroom of New York's Village Tavern. Logically, her boyfriend rewarded her bathroom make-out session with a trip to the Bahamas and an engagement ring (as a side note, have women made men do more dumb shit in the history of world than money? which would you vote for? is man's love of women stronger than his love of money? it seems to me when you have a woman you have no money, while when you have money you have plenty of women. the catch here, of course, is that those women take that money, in which case you are left with no women and no money. either way, man is fucked. that said, it seems man's love for women eclipses his love for money, as evidenced by the tale I am telling at present. a man gets cheated on, sees it with his own eyes, and responds by taking her to a tropical island and buying her a ring. the power of the vagina continues to impress me every day) .. In any event, upon her return from the Bahamas sometime in July, she wandered the beige halls of the agency, showing her ring to anyone she could chase down. Stories of her love for her fiancee, the ring, and their new apartment filled the office on a daily basis. New testimonies of their unmatched love for each other were posted to her cube weekly. Heavily-scented flowers, highlighted love letters, stories of romantic weekend getaways, plans for the wedding, plans for the honeymoon, plans for the happy life together. Apparantly, our young protaganist managed to find her love once again, and had grown more mature from her experience socking cock in a bar bathroom. They were gonna make this thing work. She loved him, and he loved her. And they were getting married. All was once again right with the world.

So of course, I was a bit suprised Tuesday night when I stumbled upon her making out with someone other than her much-loved fiance a second time. Tuesday night, for those not lucky enough to attend, was my much maligned company Christmas party. It was a thoroughly dull affair, which I attempted to make more interesting with the help of three Dewar's 12-year on the rocks (amazing what a few scotches can do to transform an office party into the must-attend even of the year). The party was wrapping up, and plans were made to enjoy a nightcap at the oft-frequented neighboorhood bar, Perdition. Before leaving for our new destination, however, I decided to relieve the bladder one last time. As I entered the corridor to the men's bathroom, I saw two lovebirds engaged in a passionate kiss-session. Only after a good stare did I realize it was the same girl as before. With the same guy, as before. Only now, she had an engagement on the line. They didn't notice me, or didn't care, so I went to piss, came out (they were still tongue wrestling) and decided to do what any good man would do: tell the entire agency what was happening. I ran from person to person. I couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Men's bathroom .. you must ... go ... now .. " Person upon person returned, mouth agape, laughing in the way only a few drinks can make one laugh, stunned at the sight. It was poetic. As i've seen so many times, the woman who brags about her love the most is the one to lose it the quickest. The more they talk about the depth of their love, the more shallow it truly is. Her letters, flowers, and ring are a mask for her lie to the world. She doesn't love him. Or, more likely, she has no idea what love really is.

Eventually, our heroine was whisked away by calmer heads, put into a cab, and taken home. The next day at work, she appeared as if nothing had happened. Laughing, socializing, engaging, as if she had no idea, or was ignoring, that she was the object of scorn and disgust eight hours earlier.

I have a strong desire to play the role of anonymous notifier. Her husband-to-be should be aware that his wife-to-be has a trouble keeping her lips off of men's parts after a few glasses of Chardonnay. That could bode poorly for their future. And why should this girl be allowed to destroy this man's life, as will surely happen sooner or later. Besides, if he is notified, judging by his previous reaction, he will probably take her back to the Caribbean, and speed up the marriage to expedite the future adultery he'll have to endure. Maybe he thinks a marriage certificate and wedding reception will change her desire to kiss men other then him. My money says it doesn't. One perspective says a person shouldn't mess with their life or their relationship. Let them figure it out on their own. The other perspective says, she did this, everyone saw it, and he needs to know exactly what he's getting himself into. And she certainly isn't going to tell him herself. If not me, then who?

Suffice to say, I won't be sending any emails or revealing any secrets. As an Alabamian would say, if you poke around where the gators live, you just might have to swim in the swamp. And who wants that? No, let this man find out on his own what all of us, including you now, know. His marriage is in trouble before it ever started.

Love is grand. But if I were him, I'd stick with money.