The next love story - Part 2

"Where were you today?"
"Barcelona"
"Now?"
"Still here"
"Will you be back?"
"I don't know"
"I understand"
"No, I really don't know. How did they call it.. re-ergonomization of the leadership teams"
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know"
"How long have you said 'I don't know' for?"
"30 minutes?"
"Over a year"
"Don't lecture me, Mr I-know-it-all"
"I know nothing, me"
"This bed is massive"
"Meant to tell you"
"What?"
"Was walking through Central Park today, saw that bird again, the pretty blue one that isn't always blue, and couldn't remember its name"
"Indigo Bunting"
"I like that you know crazy stuff like this. How big is that bed?"
"Pointlessly big"
"I should get ready for my 4pm and recover from the brainless state you throw me in"
"OK"
";pig you"
"Eh?"
"Bloody keyboard is for child-size fingers!"
":D"

The next love story‏

And here it is. In full anonymity, to avoid getting shot.

Once upon a time there was a handsome guy. He was astute, quick, ambitious and yet in need of reassurance. One day, his path unexpectedly crossed the one of a smart young lady. She was nervous and volatile, and yet deeply rooted in the convictions of her upbringing and in the faith in her future.   

They met at the edge of generational transformations, when conventions are demolished and rebuilt, when words like 'commitment' and 'forever' sound risible and transient. When apolidity is the rule, not the exception. They met in the nowhere land of career success and marketing spin, where everybody is guarded and calculating their moves. They stopped to take a breath and got distracted. They lowered their guard and fell in love. Although they couldn't call it love, because that word too was being pulverised, mixed with glue and repackaged as a Valentine's Day card. They just lived it, hidden under other easier, paler, more technical words.

Their beginning was crushing, like a train at full speed. Absolute and demented. Confused. Cruel. As they tried to hold on to the signposts of their scripted journeys. Testing how far the rubber band of their feelings could stretch, before pulling them back together.

Bear hug

When I was at university, the physics department was based a stone-throw away from the zoo. Solving complicated equations was often interrupted by the gibbon's shrieks, or the chilling sound of unhappy caged animals. Not too unhappy they must have been, as this bizarre atmosphere was strangely conducive to coupling, and the cutest lion or leopard cubs often were born in captivity to delight our studious, and sometimes bored, afternoons.

Officially because we used the cafe', unofficially because we were probably on the list of weird species threatened by extinction, physics students could wander around the zoo for free, like a modern Epicurean Garden, where quantum mechanics and cybernetics were debated.

As a budding EI, my conversations were often a mixture of heavy ions and the latest relationship disasters, hoping to find some rational answers to the ineffability of the heart.
One day in particular, after the nth emotional mash-up, a friend's hug helped bringing my melodrama into perspective and eased me back into some sense. A bear hug among the polar bears.. Couldn't have been more poignant.

Why bring it up today?
Because some hugs last a long time. Even if they need to take electronic form. If I have learned something in all these years, it is that unlike romance, friendship can survive hardship and separation, and come to your rescue when most needed.

And yet, why are we all suckers for the next love story?

Board(bed)room quota‏

What do intelligent, educated people do when bored at work? Simple: Fantasy shagging. You know Fantasy football? Pretty much the same, except that goals are scored every time a rumour is successfully planted about the player allegedly having sex with someone else in the company. That is to say, the winner needs to get HR's knickers repeatedly in a twist above anybody else's indiscretions, until they resemble the Wheel of Fortune.

This happened at Married Friend #2's firm, where a bunch of senior managers, who should have known better, found themselves drawing complicating relationship plots over subsidised coffee.

MF#2, uber competitive as ever, constructed phantom stories about the president of European operations (you have to aim high), the building manager (can't beat a broom cupboard) and, in a stroke of genius, the head of HR herself (everybody likes some girl-on-girl action). She was beaten to the post by her office buddy, who allegedly bedded the CEO, the COO, CIO and the CFO, almost automatically winning the title of CSO (Chief Shagging Officer).

Dangerous game, I hear you say. Indeed, it all ended in tears when whispers reached the Chairman of the board. Who was enraged and horrified to find out that he wasn't on anybody's list. The company now enforces a strict no-relationship policy.

Which brings us to the question: are business and romance compatible? Is it risky to go seamlessly from spreadsheets to silk sheets? And if it all goes to pot, how to ignore each other when walking down narrow corridors, or sitting across a boardroom table? On the other hand, considering the number of hours we spend at work on an average day, aren't we robbed of potential partners if obliged to exclude our colleagues?

Another friend, who is an HR expert, offered her advice on the subject: 'People can do whatever they want outside working hours, I don't care. There is only one line that cannot be crossed: the reporting line. Be creative, fish outside your team, explore new departments, broaden your office horizons. And, if you really like someone, don't mind what people say, let them talk. Before or later they will get bored and move on to the next gossip. In case they don't, be flattered. It means you are hot property.'

If I may add, someone should also remember to include the highest powers when spreading rumours. Nobody wants to feel too old, or too powerful for alleged indiscretions. What's the point of being the boss otherwise?

Talk to strangers

A while back, English Rose witnessed a lovely encounter worth reporting.

Here it is:

Busy carriage of a commuters’ train, late in the evening.

Young guy in his 20s settles in his seat. Looks around and, having spotted an abandoned newspaper, asks the girl in the next seat if she minds him reading it.

She looks at him straight in the eyes and replies: 'Of course' – and adds – ‘you are very smiley, you know?’ How do you manage that at the end of a long day?’

And so the conversation starts.

Before getting off at his station, he asks for her number. Will he call?

As English Rose put it: ‘No online dating, no drunken mess or meat market club. I am reassured.’

What can I add?
I am not against any of the above. You have to do what you have to do to find whatever it is that tickles your fancy. But it is indeed reassuring that good old words, smiles, sparks, instant connections still mean something to us.
May I just add that I mainly admire the courage of these two train-daters to grab the fleeting moment, to act quickly and think later.

Now, I wish I knew how it all ended..