At my work, though, I enjoy the presence of a few women — two, in
particular. Can I write about this without sounding creepy? Probably
not, but I’m going to be honest about it anyway. If you’re creeped out
by an old man writing about women, well, that’s your problem.

There are half a dozen women in my workplace, but I’m only affected
by two; let’s call them Becky and Evelyn. They’re different in many
ways, the most obvious being that one is 20-something and the other is
60-something, but they have the same effect on me. Both are attractive,
sure, but to me almost all women are attractive, and I’m not
daydreaming about asking either of them out. Not in this lifetime, not
on this planet. This isn’t romantic or sexual, there are no butterflies
are in my belly, and neither lady is on my mind when I’m masturbating.
It’s not like that at all.

It’s just — nice, is all. When I see Becky or Evelyn, the feeling is simply, It’s nice to see her.
It’s also nice to get an email from either of them, nice to discuss
things with them, even the most boring things you could imagine — work
things, their weekend, my cat, whatever. Thing is, I’m a certified
bastard, so after any interaction with anyone else at work, I’m not thinking, Ahh, that was nice.

Are Becky and Evelyn more personable than Charles and David and Floyd
and Jon and Chad and Julio and Mort and Henry and Mark? Definitely. Are
they smarter than those men? Yeah, all of them put together. They’re
also funnier and more awake and less likely to talk about boring crap
like football.

I make an honest attempt to treat men and women equally, because I
believe in equality, and because it’s easy to treat everyone equal when
you treat everyone lousy. But there’s also no denying that I’m nicer to
Becky and Evelyn than I am to anyone else at work. I like those ladies
in a wholesome way, and yet, I’d turn purple and melt into this recliner
if either of them saw this post and knew it was written by me.

You’re wondering if I’m building up to a point. Nope, I’m not. I’m
simply trying to figure this out, and typing as I ponder it. OK, you’re
the shrink and I’m on the couch. What the hell is up with this old guy? itsdougholland.com ← PREVIOUS          NEXT →