The Guy by Ben Tanzer
The Guy
Here’s the thing. You were the guy.
That guy. The cool one. The good-looking one.
You were the guy.
There’s always a guy, the one that the women and the older married guys at the office gravitate to. The guy is inevitably new and probably young, though the guy doesn’t have to be young if he’s attractive and dynamic. The guy doesn’t even have to be friendly. In fact, it never hurts the guy to be somewhat removed, distant and moody.
It’s about freshness. And it’s about office life and the lack of exposure to the new and different. Sameness breeds need and desire.
Of course, it’s also about safety, people at work are supposed to be safe, like your family is supposed to be safe. You can take chances at work, not real chances mind you, but you can not quite be yourself at work and yet be yourself all at once. You want to flirt, you flirt. It’s work. You want to be more like the geek you wish you could be, you geek. It’s work. And having the guy there makes this possible. The guy strives to be non-judgmental, because unlike you the guy knows that work is just work and so he just wants to enjoy the attention.
The fact is, for most of us work is everything and the guy makes that palatable.
And you were the guy.
You were attractive, but not too attractive, which is important, because no one truly wants to be with someone who is prettier than they are, it’s disconcerting.
You were biting, but not rude; a person really has to hate themselves to be around someone who’s rude, and no one wants to be reminded about how much they hate themselves.
You were attentive, but not lascivious, which is also good; the sexual tension must also be safe, if not sanitized. A person must be able to picture the possibility of sex with the guy, yet not feel dirty about the fact that it just might happen because that’s human nature, nothing more, nothing less.
You were also young, but not a boy. Boys don’t know anything, and ultimately that’s just tiring.
And that was you, all of it.
Now, is it fun being the guy?
Yes, most of the time it is.
Do you get to fuck interns?
You do.
Do you get unwanted attention? And can it be uncomfortable?
Sometimes, to be honest, yes, and yes.
For example, there is Laura. She is older, married and attractive enough. She always wants you to help her in the conference room. Door closed. People talk. You know this. She knows this.
You assume no one would actually believe something is going on, in the office, during the day, c’mon?
Still.
“People are talking,” Laura says one day, briefly looking up before continuing to work.
“Yeah,” you respond, non-committal, “about what?”
“Are you going to make me say it?” she says, leaning over the conference table and smiling.
Is this an invitation? Doubtful, then again, you were the guy.
“No, I wouldn’t make you say anything,” you say. “You are the boss.”
You pause. She’s staring at you. You should kill this. Fucking interns is one thing, but you have no interest in looking for more work, and that’s how these things end, always, but if you are going to kill it, you have to do so in a way that both makes Laura feel good about herself and still allows you to be the guy.
“Hey,” you say, “we know nothing can ever happen here, but maybe we should let people believe what they want, it’s fun for them, and we get to have a little inside secret all too ourselves, right?”
Laura stands up straight. She straightens her skirt. She smiles.
“Where were we?” she asks.
Are there other problems?
It depends on you how define problem.
Do they take you seriously at work? Are you someone they would promote? Or do they feel threatened because you are the guy and because you have all of the mojo?
That depends as well, who would admit to these things?
Still, truth be told, you want to be the guy. You may only be a big fish in a small pond, but how often do you get to be that fish?
Not often, and to be honest, you don’t have anything else, no relationships and no real interests, being the guy is your thing, and you have to hold onto it even while making it look like you don’t care, because that’s what being the guy is all about.
But what do you do when you are no longer the guy? What do you do when there is a new guy?
A guy who may or may not be more attractive than you, though even you have to admit that he’s handsome with his neat haircut, and yes, his clothes are always nicely pressed and matching, neither of which you have ever valued much and didn’t have to value when you were the guy.
Is he more attractive than you though? You don’t want to admit you care about this, but you do, it comes with being the guy, and no, he is not more handsome than you, but he is smoother. Is he also funnier, smarter or more creative than you though, no, maybe, no, but what he is for sure, is newer and fresher. He’s this year’s model and you are not, and because of this, though maybe not just this, he’s now the guy.
The guy.
Fuck.
You don’t want to hate him for being the guy. It’s beneath you. Or is it? Because you want to believe it is, but how could it be, you’re barely holding onto what you have, plus, the new guy makes it easy for you. You don’t have to hate him because he’s now the guy, you can hate him because he’s a prick.
Now, can you take someone calling you “old man” all the time as a term of endearment? Maybe, but that doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t say it that way the snarky fuck.
What about the comments about your clothes and hair, and how he wants to submit your name to “What Not to Wear?” What is that, and so what if he’s smiling when he says it.
Then there’s Laura, your Laura, she’s inviting him to help her in the conference room. Does he say no? No. Is it possible she is inviting him to help her because you let her maintain her fantasy, but didn’t give her what she ultimately may have really wanted?
Maybe, fuck.
Is it jealousy? Again, maybe, but regardless, he’s a smug little bastard and he needs to get his.
You plot your revenge.
The Christmas Party is after work one night at The 3rd Coast. It will be tasteful. There will be wine and niceties, speeches from the partners, cheese, and polite conversation. It will be no place and no time for a scene.
Perfect.
“Hey man,” you say to the new guy the morning of the party, “what do you say we get some drinks before the party?”
“Yeah?” he says with a big smile.
“Yeah,” you reply, “we should get to know each other better.”
“Cool, I don’t really drink though,” he says.
“Don’t worry bro,” you say, “I will go easy on you.”
That’s what you say anyway before you actually hunker down before the start of the party at the bar in Mario’s Ristorante across the street from The 3rd Coast.
Here’s what you say after two Gin and Tonics.
“Shots?”
“I don’t know,” he says, “I’m a little buzzed and we don’t have that much time anyway.”
“Dude, c’mon,” you say. “Don’t be such a pussy.”
“Uh…,” he says, his eyes starting to look a little glassy.
“Great, but you are right about the time, we need to drink-up,” you say motioning to the bartender and then adding, “shots, please, two each, Tequila, and make them doubles, we have to blow.”
You have to help the new guy across the street and into the building where The 3rd Coast is located. He stumbles down the stairs leading into the restaurant spraying the formally neat piles of New City and The Reader everywhere.
People start to look at him and you just shrug.
Victory.
But then Laura walks over to him. He can barely lift his head and she puts her arm around his shoulders, leading him to a table and away from you. After she sits him down and gets him some water, she looks at you and glares, as do the small group of chick interns and supervisors now gathered around him.
You sneak out into the night. You shake your head. What a pussy. Of course, if he’s a pussy, what does that make you, it makes you a dude wishing something still existed that never will again, because that ship has sailed, that’s what.
Later that night, much later, as you sit in your apartment looking out over the parking lot behind your building, you hear the phone ring and it’s so jarring, you realize just how quiet it gets in your apartment at this time of night when there is no one else around.
“Yeah,” you say, having no idea who it could be.
“It’s me.”
It’s him, the new guy.
“Hey me,” you say, trying not to laugh. “How goes it?”
“Fine,” he says, “though no thanks to you.”
“Sorry,” you say.
“Whatever dude,” he says, “look, I have something to ask you.”
“Yeah, what?”
“I’m into guys,” he says suddenly, calmly, “but I’ve never been with one. Would you be my first?”
What?
“That’s flattering,” you say trying to buy time and wondering where this came from and what it means, “but I think you have the wrong guy.”
“Think about it,” he says.
You will, you know you will, still, how did this happen? Maybe you should just ask.
“Hey, why me,” you ask, “there must be other dudes at the office who would be into this, why not them?”
“Because you’re the guy,” he says.
* * *
[caption id="attachment_2819" align="alignleft" width="307"] Author Ben Tanzer, Chicago[/caption]
Ben Tanzer is the author of the books 99 Problems and You Can Make Him Like You among others, as well as, the forthcoming novella My Father’s House and humor collection This American Life. He also oversees day-to-day operations of This Zine Will Change Your Life and blogs at This Blog Will Change Your Life, the centerpiece of his vast, albeit faux media empire.
He is currently watching Sports Center, but upon his deathbed, he will receive total consciousness, so, he’s got that going for him, which is nice.
Find more out about Ben Tanzer here:
This Blog Will Change Your Life
You Can Make Him Like You
My Father's House
This American Life
Purchase You Can Make Him Like You at Amazon.
Read the review of You Can Make Him Like You on Smalldoggies, by Matty Byloos.
(Author Image, courtesy the author; story image: via WatermarkPlaceUK)