THE STICKY
I work in a shared office on a university campus, and my humble cubicle is defined by two opaque glass partitions.
Privacy is nice — these make it harder for my colleagues to see when I’m scouting talent for my fantasy basketball team, or when sorting prices from low to high on lululemon’s website (but not actually buying anything).
On the left partition is a single sticky note.
This has been there for a while now, which is somewhat interesting for at least two reasons:
- The glass is quite smooth, and sticky notes don’t usually… stick that well
- There’s nothing written on it
A few months ago, I went on a date — standard dinner-dessert-walk.
When our chicken karaage arrived, she plucked the “biggest piece” and placed it tenderly onto my plate. I thought that was very sweet…
Also sweet was the watermelon beverage she got after we decided on bubble tea for dessert. But then again, I’m saying this as the guy who orders roasted milk tea — no sugar, no toppings, no fun.
Some context before I continue:
- She and I actually met a decade ago, as fresh-faced undergraduates
- Over the years, we stayed in and out of touch on Instagram
- What I mean by the above is that I would like anything she posted within two business days
- Several months ago, I responded to a story of hers with a silly and / or stupid comment
- Somehow, that got us talking again — and eventually, agreeing to meet up
Given our roots, we collaborated on another joint decision and headed to campus for an evening stroll.
One bubble tea is not an insignificant amount of liquid.
Then you have to factor in my water intake during dinner, which was well above average — I took a sip whenever I caught myself staring…
Which is why at some point during our walk, I suggested that we make a detour at my building to make use of the bathroom facilities there.
After taking care of business, it was only natural that she receive a quick tour of my office.
There was a moment when conversation stalled, and we found ourselves looking quietly at the impressive floor-to-ceiling windows.
Noticing a pad of sticky notes, she suggested that we put one on the glass. Doing so would allow us to pinpoint exactly where my office was from outside, because this is what the outside looks like:
I told her that was a “fantastic idea”, even though I already knew.
The next day, I rescued the sticky and relocated it to my desk where it’s lived ever since.
I’d steal glances at the blank note sometimes and entertain myself with the cheesiest of interpretations — that it was a symbol for our story, an empty canvas just waiting to be filled.
We saw each other for a little while longer before it all eventually… faded.
I’ve put plenty of thought into trying to figure out where things went wrong.
There was this one date, for example, where I broke into a mild sweat struggling to locate a parking spot as she sat quietly in the passenger seat…
Regardless, the most convincing theory so far is that I had simply come on too strong.
Ten years ago, I lacked the confidence to make any sort of move when we had some history course together.
This time around, I probably got a little carried away trying to redeem myself…
I was in my feelings last week when an idea struck — why not write about it?
And so I did…
This piece has given me an opportunity to reflect — to be vulnerable and candid, to take random photos of my workplace, to find some of the closure I’ve been searching for.
Now that I’ve gotten it all off my chest, consider it also a public service announcement — yours truly is almost ready to be hurt again. Do feel free to share this information with any parties you deem appropriate.
Here’s to a new year…
