Dude I kind of dig is coming over to my apartment after work! Must make sure I prepare accordingly before heading to the office, so as to avoid being caught unawares, sporting unkempt hair and an unflattering outfit. Cue Clueless moment of Cher prepping for Christian's arrival. ... Probably should have selected a different movie moment for inspiration. Preferably one that didn't end in him being gay and her saying, "I don't get it."
Winning ensemble:
Hair carefully spiral-curled, black and white sheer polka dot blouse (with a cami underneath for reasons of work appropriateness), black frilly skirt, and, as a final touch, 60's cat-eye liner and red lips. (Pencil, not lipstick, for reasons of the hopefully-there-will-be-a-stellar-makeout-sesh variety.)
After work, I have 30 minutes for any touch-ups. One of these touch-ups involves removing the conservative cami to reveal a sassier lace layer beneath the sheer blouse. And by layer, I mean not really a layer at all. My mother would call it lingerie. But then she also called my game-day outfit lingerie, soooo...
Regardless.
Dude comes over. I proceed to behave in an uncharacteristically shy and awkward manner. Because I'm five. We have a lovely floor picnic, as I still have not managed to purchase a kitchen table. #beverlyhillbilly
Mid-picnic, dude asks, "Is that what you wore to work today?"
Fair question. There are two possible answers.
Conundrum.
Answer A:
"Yep! Well, minus a tank top - I'm not going to walk around the office like a ho."
Translation: "I knew you were coming over, so I started removing my clothing."
Awkward.
Answer B:
Yep!
Translation: I am the office whore.
Obviously, I went with Answer B. You know, to avoid any awkwardness.
...
...
...
I'll be back after I go feed my cats.
(Chosen outfit for my failed attempt at the art of seduction is pictured above. On me. While I'm holding a creepy doll at the Rose Bowl Flea Market. Somehow it all seemed very appropriate for this post.)
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