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A Funny Little Story About a Seriously Big Mistake
In September of 1997, I was in graduate school at NYU. I was living in Queens, NY sleeping on a twin bed in my brother’s living room. He was in Law school at St. Johns. My father had helped me to get admitted into graduate school. I felt like a fraud. I studied harder than I’d ever studied before.
In the first semester I got an internship at a small family run ad agency. One of my classmates worked for her father. They were good people. One day on the subway into New York City from Queens, something happened.
I encountered a gorgeous young woman. Both she and I held the same pole in the middle of the subway car. As more people boarded the car, the closer she got to me.
My right hand on the pole. Her right hand on the pole. She glanced back at me. I blushed. She did a backward shuffle to let people on. Eventually, she and I were spooning. I was holding a DVD player in my left hand. Headphones on. My arm was at my side. As she backed up, the back of my hand holding the DVD player touched the back of her exposed thigh. She didn’t move. Neither did I. I was up against her from behind. We swayed to the rocking of the subway. I froze. She froze. It was perfect.
She was wearing a yellow sundress with flowers on it. I know this because I couldn’t make eye contact with her. As she got closer things became more intimate. Her hair was in my face, and it smelled wonderful. It was the best subway ride of my life. She got off at 42nd street. I kept going to 57th. My head was spinning. She was so close to me I could still smell her perfume. Now I had to go to work.
I had to tell someone.
I was the first one in the office. This was good. We only had a dial up connection. Of four employees, only one at a time could go online. We would log on, check emails, and log off. Shouting to the other office that it was ok for them to log on.
I logged on, and immediately began to type an email to my friend Andrea. She was my confidant in these matters, as I was for her. I detailed every movement, every brush of skin, and every lingering scent.
I asked her “how am I supposed to concentrate at work today?”
I hit send.
I sat. I waited. I hoped nobody arrived to check their email before she responded. I needed a woman’s advice.
What was she going to say? Should I have slipped this girl my number? Had anything like this ever happened to her on her subway ride? I couldn’t focus.
I saw a response.
It was from my Father.
“Sounds like a great start to your day. Now get back to work, Love Dad.”
My father’s name was Adrian. I had begun typing in “Andrea” and outlook had selected Adrian on my behalf. I had typed my horny morning confession email to my Father.
We all make mistakes. Sometimes they work out. Sometimes they don’t.
Forgive yourself and move on.
Have a great day.
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