Once upon a time, this assistant had a lover. He wasn't a daytime lover, he wasn't even a Friday night lover, he was just a boy that gave me many an impassioned kiss in the dark. He made me forget the insecurity that I felt as an assistant, a mere minion in the world, and he replaced that void with sensuality and confidence. It was pure, straight and carnal. He never remembered the details of my life, but he enjoyed me. There was no investment, no hopeful glance that we'd spend time together in the future, that he'd learn something new and endearing about me. We just found ourselves in the same place at the same time and took advantage of being young and full of hormones. We managed to see each other at least once a week for several months and it was quite the glorious arrangement.

And then one day I felt something happen. I started falling in love with him. He had intelligence and charm, he dressed well and he was talented. I noticed details about him, like the freckles in his eyes, the way he arched his eyebrow when he was playing it cool, and the way he laughed when he was really happy. It made me happy when he was around.

That's where our affair had to end. As soon as there was a spark of something more, he could smell it, like blood in the water and I knew what was going to happen next. He would just disappear.

Unfortunately, I had left an article of clothing at his house on one of our get togethers. A sweater. He did not make it easy for me to get it back. There were many texts back and forth, of me asking and him saying "Maybe tomorrow," but never returning my follow up texts and messages. We never broke up, so I didn't see the reason for this difficulty. Why couldn't it be easy? I didn't see him for two months.

Finally, I sent him a little IM message and he responded. I was about to go on my lunch break, and he happened to be at home, so I asked him if it would be ok if I stopped by to pick up my sweater. Seeing as winter is upon us, I will need as much warmth as I can get. He said it would be all right, so I told him I'd be by in a few minutes.

 It took me a half hour to get to his place. I knocked on his door, and no one answered. I knocked again. I called his cell. "Give me two minutes," he said. "I'm just getting out of the shower."

I spotted his cat, a beautiful, fat, black and white rescue with big cheeks lounging on a patio chair. The cat and I hung out while I waited for him to finish doing whatever he was doing. I thought to myself, "Of course he'd be in the shower. Of course he'd make sure he was naked as soon as I got to his apartment. Who showers at 1:30 in the afternoon?" Every aloof move that he made was as well-planned as it was natural and spontaneous. That's part of his allure. He embodied sexual energy and emit it like radio signals so that women everywhere would know where he was and where they can get it as long as they know he ain't gonna be around in the morning.

He sent me a text message while I was petting the purring cat (whose affectionate response was, by the way, so completely contrary to my former lover's insouciance).  The text message from the shower said, "Come in if you want."

So I  entered his apartment through the unlocked door. I called out a tentative "Hello?" His Chuck Taylors were tossed behind a couch and a pair of jeans thrown over the back of it.

He yelled from the bathroom, "Hey!" and came out with a towel wrapped carelessly around his waist. He grabbed his boxers and I found a piece of paint to focus on while he put them on. 

I almost laughed as I thought: Is this really happening to me? Am I really in this situation?

I saw my sweater on the kitchen counter and I went to grab it as he came out of the bathroom clad only his plain white cotton boxers. 

Not knowing whether to high tail it out of there, or to stick around like a well-mannered individual, I decided to take the civilized route and ask about how he was and make small talk for a bit. Even though he was still dripping and almost completely naked. I felt like to leave would make it all the more awkward. And, as long as I'm being completely honest, I was a little frozen in place.

"So you're just on your lunch break or something?" he asked, pulling his jeans on, those jeans that fit him like a damn glove.

"Yeah." I felt so shy. Not hurt or heart broken, just shy. Seeing him did not inspire the feelings that I used to have for him, but I felt tense, like I had a secret I absolutely couldn't, under any circumstances, ever share with him.

"What are you gonna do for your break?"

"I'll probably go get a cup of coffee and then run some errands."

 "Where are you heading?"

"Sherman Oaks." For a moment, a thought seemed to cross his face and I wondered if that meant that he might want to join me for a coffee. And then I quickly disregarded that thought.  That was never our relationship, nor would it ever be. "I have to drop off some paperwork and then pick up a bottle of milk."

"A bottle of milk? Seriously?"

"Yeah, my bosses like their milk in the glass bottles from Gelsons."

"They got something against cardboard?"

"Milk in the glass actually tastes delicious."

"Yeah. I bet it does. What does it cost, like $30?"

"Yes," I tell him, "because it's made of gold."

He laughed at my joke. Boy, howdy, I had to get out of there.

I quickly changed the subject and started to back away from him. "Whelp! It's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too," he said moving in for a hug.

His skin was still cool and damp, water clinging to the freckles on his back. I felt weak. "You look great," I said. "Naked and everything."

He laughed again.

I didn't look at him as I said, "I guess I'll see ya."

"Yeah... See ya."

I didn't even look back as I closed the door behind me. No last look. Not even a real goodbye. It was just the end of a chapter in my life. 

I sat in my car, looked at my sweater and I laughed out loud. Who does that? Who perfectly plans to be just hopping out of the shower when their former lover arrives? I'm not going to lie, there was a part of me that wanted to throw him on the bed and press my body up against his. But I was too annoyed by his confidence, his audacity. He seemed excited to see me, more excited than he had been in a long time and I laughed. Because I no longer care for the mystery. I know him, and I love some parts of him, sure. But a one sided love and understanding only equals to a waste of my time. 

I drove away, smiling as I thought about him. That wonderful man, still dressed in the trappings of a boy. I have tended to fall for men who should really be with 19-year-old girls. One day, he'll find a woman that he'll be absolutely bananas for. I hope that when he grows up, he'll find someone he respects, and he'll kiss her and see her as an equal, not just a plaything. That woman is certainly not me.