The state of the world (in particular, this country) is bleak as hell, everyone is angry, I’m angry, and I want to lose my shit. Emotional meltdowns are cathartic—sometimes, you just need to scream and cry and breakdown and honestly, if it works for babies, it works for me. For this week’s Pissing Contest, we want to hear all about your greatest, most dramatic moment—the time you totally lost your shit—and, ideally, whatever ramifications followed and/or inspired it.
Was it a break up? Did you behave like a Karen and regret it? Let us know in the comments below.
But first, let’s take a look at last week’s winners! These are the best stories about that time you dated someone from work.
goddessoftransitoryrisesagain, awe:
Well, he was cute. Not gonna pretend I didn’t notice, but it never occurred to me that he was interested. We both worked at the Seattle downtown Borders Books back in the day, and everybody spent their workday moving from one area to another, so you didn’t hang with the same people too long.
But one fine Friday we were straightening the most boring-ass section of the store (computing guides) and talking, and somehow the subject of the midnight showing of Office Space at the Egyptian came up. Normally I wouldn’t be interested, as that would mean staying up until 2 a.m. and I would have to work the next day, but hey, a whole work group was going, and it sounded fun, and at the time I lived two blocks away from the theater.
So we went—I don’t know if it officially counts as a first date because technically we were in a “group from work,” but we sat next to each other and laughed, and on our second date we rented Wicker Man and Half Baked and watched them one after the other and I changed into my super sex-ay flannel PJs with the breakfast foods printed on them, but he didn’t get the hint.
Not then, anyway, but luckily I have the patience and stalking ability of Shelob; poor bastard didn’t know what hit him. Almost 20 years and 13 wedding anniversaries later, he still doesn’t, but that’s okay. Like I said, he’s cute.
tonight, living in a fantasy, this is inspiring:
Years ago, I quit a job that literally made me cry at my desk to work something fun and temporary for the summer. It was a super fun place- a young restaurant crowd working summer jobs at the beach. Everyone was younger; I was like the old lady of the bunch, at 37. There was this guy in another department who was about 10 years my junior, and I could not stop looking at him! So cute! Like a cross between Keanu Reeves and a young Jimmy Fallon. I thought what the hell, I’ll have some fun. We would go out dancing till dawn, skinny dipped in the ocean at night and had sex in the dunes and under the boardwalk.
This summer will be 9 years for us.
FionaAnne, I’m so sorry for your lost:
Summer, 1992: I’m asked by my boss to escort a candidate for a tech position to her office from the front door of our offices. I do. Over the next three years we become such good friends everyone thinks we’re dating.
Summer, 1995: we move in together (after dating for about two weeks)
Winter, 1997: reader, I married him.
Autumn, 2013: he passed away. Being with him (friends, dating, co-habitating, marriage. whatever) was the best decision I ever made.
The Ghost of James Madison’s Rage Boner, this is a wonderful, redemptive tale of little shit behavior, and I adore it:
So, a year after I got out of the Navy and a year into college, I got this summer job that I didn’t even really want, but I was living with my folks and my dad made it clear that I was either working that summer or finding somewhere else to live. The first week I was there, my boss was on vacation, so I got situated with my coworkers and decided it was okay.
The following Monday, I show up 3 hours late for work and walk in when my coworkers are eating lunch. I notice this tall, smoking-hot blonde sitting with them. I sit down and start talking with them and try to flirt with the blonde girl. But she says, “Are you Ghost? Why are you so late?” and it slowly dawns on me that this is my boss. She was not happy.
Somehow or another, she got past it, and being 22 and stupid, I kept trying to flirt with her. By Wednesday, she was laughing at my dumb jokes, and that afternoon, we realized that we lived about two blocks apart. So I said, “We should carpool!”
In any sane universe, she would have said no, but she agrees. Friday morning in the car, she says, “My brother’s best friend is getting married tomorrow and my date canceled, do you want to come?” She explains that her parents, her brother, his fiance, and her grandparents will all be there. Undeterred, I agree.
My friends, I was still half on her shit list, but that night, I pulled out her grandmother’s chair when she was sitting down, and that apparently sealed the deal. We were out until 3 a.m. at a diner that night talking, and boning all night long the next.
We’ll celebrate 30 years this summer.
Relive the horror in the comments below.
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