The Pubs

At the end of September, things took an interesting turn. Maybe I was being rewarded for being good and not going out as much. Or maybe after a few somewhat crappy weekends in a row, things were bound to improve. Either way I was pleased about it.
I had been friendly with a guy at work ever since we traveled to Boston together for a work conference over the summer. Upon our return we would exchange friendly emails, mostly about nightlife and music, and occasionally run out to pick up lunch together. He was the Associate Publisher at my job, which is a fairly high-up position, except he was only  a few years older than me. He was a hipster and a nerd, with a Brooklyn accent and Warby Parker glasses. The combination of all of these things was pretty endearing but I hadn't given it much thought, other than that we were work friends. I also knew that at the conference he had a girlfriend, but as we hung out more was picking up that they were no longer together. We were talking more, especially at work happy hours, and one day I invited myself along with his plans, without meaning to. He was seeing a dj at the Bowery Hotel that night, which was right near my apartment. Of course he said I was welcome so I invited Russian Rocher so it wouldn't seem weird. Except she bailed and apparently his friends did too, since he showed up alone as well. We had a good time chatting and drinking, although we never did see the dj, since it was a work night and I couldn't stay out that late.
About a week later, another coworker, a Russian guy from the IT department, was hosting a bbq at his rooftop in Brighton Beach, for everyone who had worked on a particular project. This included myself and the Pubs. So that Saturday afternoon I trucked out to the bowels of Brooklyn, which took forever (no one bothered to mention to me that the B train does not run on the weekends). I finally made it out there, with my tortilla chips and guac in tow. The rooftop was huge and filled with booze and treats and a super cute Golden Retriever named Byron. My boss was also present, but she is cool as soon as she gets a drink in her so after a glass of Sangria we could all relax. Turns out we did plenty of relaxing as we stayed there for almost 8 hours. We feasted on sausages and grilled salmon and all sorts of other delicacies, all the while taking shots of Russian Standard and Mezcal every 20 minutes (or it seemed like it at least)...

Needless to say, things escalated. Nothing cray, but I spilled fish oil on my boots, my boss was yelling out work gossip and towards the end of the party, the Pubs had disappeared into the apartment for quite awhile. Or so we thought. It turns out that he thought he had gotten too drunk so he pulled an Irish exit and  walked back to the subway. My boss and I were ready to leave so we told him to stay put and we snatched him up so we could all go back together. Since it was only 10 I was ready to make a night of it and when Pubs mentioned he didn't want to go where his friends were going I invited him out with me. He agreed and we ran off the subway in Union Square, with my boss eyeing us suspiciously I'm sure. Yahtzee had invited me out, but he was with the rapey guy I had hooked up with not long ago so I vetoed that. Instead we headed to the West Village to meet up with GF and his friend who was in town. After not being let into Employees Only, we decided to head to Automatic Slims. The last time I had been there was with Ibanker last year and though it was always fun with him, the place sucked without a preppy person's protection. It was filled with a bunch of fat rich girls who don't have to be pretty because they are rich and who also have a bad attitude. After almost getting in an argument with one who purposely would not move out of my way I decided that for everyone's good we needed to leave. We headed back to safety in the LES, and on the way, I danced around to the techno I was blasting on my phone in the cab and yelled about the stupid fat girls. The Pubs was seeing a new, very classy side of me, and I'm sure he was very impressed. We went to the Thompson Hotel, where for some reason we all kept yelling "You're so stupid Karen!" a la Mean Girls. We were drinking and I even danced, which I tend to be shy about in front of people I like. At this point, I had determined that I did indeed have a crush on my work friend.
But this did not stop me from kicking the bathroom door when the girl ahead of me in line took too long. The mix of Mezcal, Russian vodka and salmon clearly wasn't working for me. Pubs still accompanied me to another bar when I yelled that I was not ready to go home when we finally left the Thompson. We ended up at Bedlam, across the street from my apartment, where we ordered two drinks, took a sip and then left them  to go get pizza. And as I was shoving pizza into my face like a lady, he told me that he had a crush on me too. I wiped the cheese from my face and smiled. He walked to my door and then he kissed me on my stoop. Definitely one of my most romantic NYC moments. Of course, I put a damper on it by hinting that he should come upstairs and thank god he paid no attention to me.
He did pay attention though when I was blabbing about how I was going to meet him at the Astoria Beer Garden the next day. He texted me in the morning, and after I shook off my hangover and went to brunch, I met him in my old hood where we had a nice afternoon drinking beer, walking in the park and chatting. We even took a stroll by my old apartment, and when I saw a face in the window, I took off running (creepy Ginger roommate?!). Besides that encounter, it was a nice little day and he seemed very sweet and genuine. Looks like I had made the classic mistake of getting involved with someone at the office....