Posts Tagged ‘men’
by hannah
October 11th, 2010
Photo: Corbis
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season (CHAPTER 17: THE BUSINESS OF PLEASURE)
My office line rings. Why is my office line ringing at eight at night? I look at the caller ID. Why is Phillip Ferrari ringing me on my office line at eight at night?
I think about not picking up. He can’t know I’m here. He probably wants to leave me a voicemail about a project; he might even get irritated if I pick up the phone and prevent him from leaving a voicemail—he’s that type of man. Then again…
I prep myself to express both surprise and fatigue: “Hello?”
“I noticed your light was still on.” His voice is static, yet deep and purposeful. “Are you working on the Benson project or the Bridgeloft project?”
I can’t quite put my finger on Phillip Ferrari yet. He works—all the time—and he makes everyone feel like they’re not working enough. All he ever talks about is work—even when we’ve gone out to research “everything L.A. has to offer” as “friends.” He doesn’t like anything about Los Angeles; he complains about how it’s not New York: the service is slow, the people don’t care about their appearance, everyone’s always going somewhere but nothing ever gets done. If he has a drink, it’s only ever one type: Lagavulin single-malt scotch, straight up. I once moved his attaché to make room for some paperwork; he moved it back. His clothes are never frumpled, even when it’s hot; he always rolls up his sleeves—two times, exactly—when he’s not wearing a jacket; and he never talks about his private life, maybe because he doesn’t have one. He lives and breathes his career. How I wish I did.
He repeats his question and I snap out of it. “The Benson project; I’m not on the Bridgeloft project, remember?”
“Can you come into my office?”
by hannah
September 22nd, 2010
From Sex, Life, & Hannah::Volume 2, Spring Season (CHAPTER 15: DOCTOR BIG LOVE)
My shoes are off, and I’m lying on my couch nursing my third glass of the cab. I am in pain, but I have to make a decision—based on the only backup plan that seems right, right now.
I call Cain. “I’m going to have to cancel. I pulled something in my back, and—”
“You know, I am a doctor,” he interjects lightheartedly.
“I can barely walk. And I have all this laundry…” I must sound so completely pathetic right now that he’ll be happy I canceled on him.
“Then you should definitely not drive. I’ll come over and take care of everything.” He doesn’t seem phased. “Even your laundry.”
Was this guy for real? Was I making a mistake? “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I don’t have to do anything for you darlin’, but I want to.”
by hannah
September 20th, 2010
I probably shouldn’t be writing today. Still very tired, and still probably feeling the effects of the snickerdoodle cookies…
So. Vegas. Me and Coco went to Vegas Saturday night because she needed a getaway and I had some leftover miles that were expiring at the end of October. And since my birthday is only a week away, I decided to start the celebration early.
Vegas is a very different place when your status is married versus single. Especially is you don’t have any special kind of “arrangements” with your husband. And last night, during a quick dinner debrief with my friend Ruby, she tells me those types of things end badly anway, at least they have with all the married people she’s known. “Someone gets emotionally attached to the person they’re supposed to be having unemotional sex with.”
A fair assessment, and to be honest, I’m not sure about the kind of arrangement I really want with hubbie. What I really want, is probably what every other married person really wants: the ability to time travel. I’m in Vegas, I’m partying, eating a snickerdoodle cookie at Rehab, sipping on a 20 ounce marg, letting go, I snap my fingers, and I’m single. I’m at home, hung over, lonely, desperately needing a foot rub, I snap my fingers, and I’m married. If only the Quantum Leap theory was more advanced…
“Where are you from?” Cute guy with faux hawk yells in my ear. Coco and I were at one of the most obnoxious clubs I’d ever been to, Tao, and had momentarily lost one another in the crowd; not difficult.
