Professionals

Unrequited, affair, longing, early attraction, workplace romance, confusion, temptation. No actual sex...yet, but maybe moving forward...

There were a total of three hugs in the length of a four year relationship. The professional relationship. VERY professional. Unfortunately, I'm being serious. The relationship stayed professional.

My whole team was fabulous - we worked well together, communicated, and understood our values. We kicked ass.

In working with our clients we encountered dangerous and unpredictable situations and scenarios on an almost daily basis, although the bulk of the heavy lifting landed on Stevie's shoulders and on mine. I'm the team lead, and most experienced supporting our clients' unique needs. Stevei's experience is also considerable, which meant that we meshed well in the office and on billables.

Although our age difference was not insignificant, the issue was never relevant.

After several years of physical danger in the field through violence and exposure to toxic chemicals, Stevie reached for his dream - becoming a firefighter.

What an incredible opportunity to move toward his dreams. The immediate professional ramifications for my airtight team were front in my mind. Interviewing and training replacements would take time and bureaucracy to track interested parties down. Not many can do what we must.

It wasn't until a few weeks later I recognized more frequent interactions. More complimentary and personal interactions.

Upon seeing me manage a client issue, he showered me with praise - my creativity, strength of will were notable - and he admired my methods and gall.

Sometime later, I found a sticky note of mine covered with another. My note read, "don't forget to file your paperwork, dummy!" Stevie's note, stuck in order to cover the final word, finished the sentence with, "wonderful person who makes mistakes."

All of these encounters (few though there were compared to how often we spoke during each day) rung a tiny little bell in my head. I sometimes felt eye contact lingered too long, or the smile was about something I might have missed. However, I can't be trusted with social cues.

Stevie often finished his day around three minutes after everyone else had left. Usually it was a quick report and he's off. Usually. Some days he would linger - talking about work, sharing a DIY project, or completing paperwork. When he did stay, we were occupied - in conversation about client contracts, safety protocol, or plumbing advice.

Everyday before he left he asked, "is there anything I can do to make your life easier before I leave?"

Every. Day.

In dangerous cases, Stevie made my life easier. I know he's got my back and I know he can handle whatever frying pan I need to throw him into.

No. He's not perfect. I've rarely in my life met someone who is worse with time management. The guy could not get to the office on time to save his life. His spelling was comically bad.

When I get into a dreamy mode, I use this to snap me out of it: there's a LOT I don't know. He never talks about a girlfriend - or - very rarely. I ask other friends at the office if they know more information - I want to know more!

As a contractor, his time card had to be signed by me. Over time trust builds and maybe I sign before it's completely filled out. I almost just always signed the damn BLANK time sheet.

All the compliments and talking - was that buttering me up so he would not have to lose hours? I'm such a terrible judge of people.

But the faith in me. The comfort, confidence, the trust in me and my competence to follow my lead. It's hard to ignore. I absolutely want to relish it. The possibility of someone being attracted to me for my skill and work in my chosen field as much as for any other reason. My field is where I put my self-worth, and he knows my field. I value his opinion, perspective, and experience. His approval and recognition mean a lot to me. This right here is undoubtedly the crux of the crush. Blurgh.

The First One

Whether a function of my work, my mothering, or just my own good 'ol mental health, I had a few rough days. I couldn't manage to get out of my car. Complete terror froze me.

On the third day I tried again with no luck. I sat in the parking lot in my car. Doing calming exercises, counting, deep breathing, whatever.

An hour after my goal time, Stevie came out to check on me. He climbed in and told me a joke. We chatted.

We got out together, and I went back to work.

At the end of the day, he lingered. We walked to the parking lot together. When I got to my car, I asked for a hug to say thank you.

There was no awkward moment about whose arms go where. Mine went around his waist and he - and his extra ten inches on me - wrapped his arms around my shoulders. Our heavy fall jackets kept our bodies further apart, and allowed for some squishing space - you know, if you are hugging someone and want to emphasize....pride, sorrow, empathy...

I gave Stevie a "thank you" squish, and he gave me an "It's okay" squish. We went our separate ways.

The Second

A few weeks later, it's Stevie's last day with us. I've made Stevie a goodbye trinket - something silly and memorable.

As he opens the gift, I am surprised to see him bow his head as he begins to cry. "Dammit, Mel. I didn't want to cry now!"

When he accepted a hug, he was half seated on a table. As I held my arms up, and he leaned toward me, his own arms moving toward my waist and hips.

My hands started on his shoulder as he moved toward me, my arms slid up and over his shoulders to lock behind his head.

His arms, slender bu like iron, fold me into a squeeze - a few seconds longer than I was expecting. As his arms wrapped, he stood, straightening his spine, and causing his hips to move slightly toward my own.

Thank god there were others in the office is all I'll say.

The Third

The third, of course, was after the after party. No one much wanted to leave. We would all miss him. People slowly moved toward the door in a herd - no one ready to stop the "fun". Everyone hugged the other three. Since it was Stevie's last hoo-rah, he got an extra long squeeze from everyone.

The reach of the hug was much like before, but it felt a little electric. He buried his face between my neck and shoulder - that spot that seems to have so many extra nerves. A whisper found its way into my ear, then, "I'm going to miss you so much, Mel." Before I could even tell if his lips brushed my neck, the hug broke and he left without turning back.

I stood in the doorway to my house that I share with my amazing husband and two wonderful kids, and I wish Stevie's car would stop. I though Maybe he could say he forgot something and come back in. Alone together. But he doesn't. That is done now. It's time to start looking forward.