20. Special Delivery

September 28, 2009: My first day of work as assistant editor of the Texas-based magazine. Also, my birthday.

I had only been at my desk for an hour or two, and I already knew I was going to love it there. I was one of only two girls on staff, which was quite a change from previously working with ALL women, aside from the token Jim Halpert-type (who I'm pretty sure everyone had a crush on at one point or another), and one older male editor who was usually out of the office exploring the mountains or playing with bears or whatever it was he did.
I came back from lunch to see a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my desk. My stomach dropped. Were they from Cayden? I hadn't talked to him for almost two weeks, a record for us. I grabbed the tiny envelope hidden between the stems and ripped it open.
"Happy Birthday! We're so proud of you! -Mom and Dad"
I was relieved and disappointed. If they had been from Cayden, then I'd have to reopen communication with him, which I knew I couldn't do. At the same time, it would have been nice of him to send me something, being that I had put a lot of thought into his gift earlier that month. Jerk.
I thought it was cute that my parents sent me flowers considering I was living in their house. You know, to save a buck or two until I could get my own place. I was more than enjoying the free rent while I could. First I'd buy a car, then I'd look for an apartment. The hour-and-a-half commute, on the other hand, made me want to die a little twice a day.
My new editor, Hal, walked by.
"Wow. Who sent the flowers? A boyfriend?"
"Haha, close. My parents. Sweet, right?"
At that point I realized I wasn't only the new girl, I was the new girl with a bouquet of flowers on my desk. My new coworkers were going to think I was some kind of spoiled princess. But they knew it was my birthday, so surely they'd forgive me.
The door opened again.
This time, a delivery man came in with a bigger bouquet: roses.
The delivery man laughed and shook his head, "Well, aren't we just popular today?"
Shit. Now I was the new girl with TWO bouquets on her desk, in an office full of men. At least women would understand. Awesome.
I reluctantly reached for the card, praying this one was from one of my siblings, or maybe an old coworker. Although roses would be a little weird. Maybe I had a secret admirer?
I saw the name at the bottom before I read the note. "Cayden"
I held my breath, but the card down on my desk, and closed my eyes for a minute. Did I want to know what it said? What if it said, "Turn around," and then he was sitting there in the lobby? I stood up and my eyes darted around the lobby next to my cubicle. Nothing. What was wrong with me? He doesn't want to be with me, of course he wouldn't have flown all the way over here to tell me happy birthday, although a huge part of me wished he did.

"Happy Birthday, Whitney. Hope you have a great birthday, and good luck with your first day at work. -Cayden"

I folded the note back up, pissed off that he hadn't even put in the effort to hand-write the note. But then I remembered, he's a guy. Guys don't think about shit like that. They just give themselves a pat on the back for remembering your birthday and placing the order.
Hal walked by again on his way to the printer.

"OK, now who are THOSE from?"
He pointed to the embarrassingly large rose arrangement.
Crap, what do I do? It was my first day, I wasn't about to tell the story of Cayden to my new editor. And our office was so quiet, I knew everyone could hear.

"They're from a friend in London."
"Oohhh, a friend in London? Those roses look like they came from more than a friend," he joked.
I laughed and shrugged. "Well, Hal, that's a story for another day."
He retreated to his cubicle.

I sat there for a little while, trying to decide if I should respond. I could send a short email. Just, "thanks for the flowers" Just like that, no punctuation or capitalization. That sends a message. In the end I decided not to reply.

That was 7 months and 27 days ago. I still have four of his roses hanging upside down on my cubicle wall, with his note attached.

10. Why I usually don't trust men

So, in my last post I ended by telling you I know nothing about love. More or less, it just confuses the shit out of me. After only a month of talking to Cayden, I was having feelings I hadn't had in a long time, but wouldn't admit to it. I've been in love before. And explaining that story to you might help you understand why I'm very skeptical about love (Oh, and I have some SERIOUS trust issues). So here's the story



I met Casey my freshman year of college. We dated my sophomore and junior years. And shit hit the fan my senior year. And when I say shit hit the fan, I mean the fan was on high and the shit was hurled at top speeds.
From the beginning we had an odd relationship. He had a girlfriend who went to another school, although he tried to tell me he didn't. We'd hang out a lot, flirt like crazy, but I wouldn't let him touch me if he had a girlfriend. Then the hanging out turned into sleepovers, where we'd cuddle, but all no-no parts were off limits and NO kissing was allowed. Now, I know I shouldn't have had a boy sleeping in my bed if he had a girlfriend, whether we were kissing or not, so feel free to judge me here.
One night I was at a black light party. Everyone was drawing on each other with highlighters so we all looked like glowing tribal freaks. Casey called, he was on his way over. He and his girlfriend had broken up. I was finally going to get to kiss him. The tension had been building for months and months through those sleepovers, and I just couldn't wait to finally let my guard down. Sure, he was bad news and I knew it. That was part of the appeal. My friends didn't like him, because they knew it, too. So I knew we were going to have to sneak this make out session. As soon as he walked in, one of the guys grabbed him and started drawing tribal signs all over his face.
I snuck off to the bathroom.
Casey followed soon after.
As soon as the door shut behind him we were all over each other. Kissing lips, necks. Kissing hard. Groping, anything and everything. It was such a rush to finally kiss him. I'd stared at that mouth, his perfectly straight white teeth standing out against his smooth dark brown skin. And oh those dimples.
"Casey? Where'd you go?" we heard someone yell from the living room.
We pulled away. Couldn't let anyone catch us.
"I'll go out first, then you come out later. To be continued," I said as I kissed him one more time, harder than before. I casually walked back out to the party like nothing had happened. A few people were looking at me really strange. Were they on to me?
"Oh my god, Whitney!!"
My friends came rushing toward me. Then Casey came out and I suddenly knew what had gone terribly wrong. There wasn't a blacklight in the bathroom, so we completely forgot about the highlighter. I didn't have any on my face before I went to the bathroom, and now my face and neck were covered with smeared highlighter to match his. So much for being discrete.
Casey slept in my bed at least 6 nights a week. He'd show up with roses or chocolate now and then. He helped take care of my roommate when she had 9 too many shots on her birthday. He went as my date to my sister's wedding, slept in bed with me at my parents house, bonded with my family. Sounds like the perfect relationship, right? Wrong. He was also dating at least three other people and sleeping with countless others. How did I know this? He told me. We had a very honest relationship, if a relationship is what you'd call it. He obviously wasn't in a place to commit, so we both dated other people. I was still a big ol' virgin at the time, so I wasn't having sex with him while he was sleeping with all of these other girls (give me a little bit of credit) But over those years he became one of my best friends. And for some unexplainable reason, I fell in love. Even though he said multiple times, "If you really knew me, you wouldn't like me." Can anyone say RED FLAG?? But love makes you do crazy things. Instead of running for the hills, I was intrigued. I wanted to know what it was he didn't want me to know. I had to know. Which brings me to the day of the shit fanning.
Casey invited me to a party at his place. He also invited Katie. I'd always wanted to meet Katie, because I knew she was one of his best friends (aside from being a friend with benefits). I know, I know, you think I'm crazy for wanting to meet a girl who was sleeping with the guy I was in love with. Casey introduced us in the kitchen. She had long dark brown hair and brown eyes, like me, but unlike me she was like 5'2" and probably wore a size zero, but her boobs were bigger. Go figure. She was adorable. We got to chatting and I noticed Casey kept a close eye on us. After five minutes of talking I learn that she thinks she's his one and only and had been for the past three years. HOLY SHIT. Casey always told me she knew about all the other girls the same way I did.
Crap. What do I do?? What's the nicest way of saying, "Umm, your boyfriend sleeps in my bed every night. Oh, and FYI, he's banged at least 5 other chicks that I could name off the top of my head right, and more if I sat down to think about it." I was so shocked, I didn't know how to react. She saw it in my face.
"Is something wrong?"
Should I keep my mouth shut? Take it out on Casey later and make him tell her? No, this was girl code. You have to tell. I wanted to throw up.
She followed me into his laundry room and shut the doors. I unloaded. Told her that her dear Casey isn't at all who she thinks he is. I left a lot of the details out, because there's really no reason to add salt to the wound. The wound being her broken heart. Her face filled with shock, anger, disgust, and then, finally, sympathy.
"So, he hits you, too?" She asked quietly.
What? Did I hear her right? He HITS her?
"Excuse me?"
"Oh never mind. It's nothing. Forget I said anything."
I could tell she was truly scared.
"Did you say he hits you?"
She finally broke down and told me everything. He'd kicked her, held her up against the wall by her neck, kicked her in the ribs.
Now I really thought I was going to throw up. I couldn't picture Casey hurting a fly. Sure, he had a bit of a temper and a problem with authority, but I could NEVER picture him hitting a girl. He had never once raised his hand to me. Never.
I just kept shaking my head over and over again.
I thought I was going to throw up.
"Oh my god. We have to get away from him. You can't let him do that."
I gave her my phone number and told her to call me after the party. I was going to help her. She needed help. We snuck out of the laundry room and I grabbed my purse, heading for the door. Casey stopped me at the door.
"Leaving without a goodnight kiss?"
I could tell he was wondering what Katie and I talked about. I had to make him think everything was still cool with us. Otherwise he'd figure it out, and then who knows what he'd do to Katie tonight.
"Of course not," I said, as I forced myself to kiss him for the last time.
I told him to have fun at the party and call me tomorrow. Boy did I have words for him.