bad news and good news.

On Wednesday morning I had an appointment with my gynecologist for my yearly checkup. I was actually anxious to know if 1. I was pregnant and 2. If I had contracted any stids. I wasn’t worried about any of that until I talked to Kendra. She has a way of making you think the worst about your situation.

“Have you gotten your period?” she asked me on Tuesday night.

“Kendra, I haven’t gotten my period in a year,” I rolled my eyes. She knows that.

“First of all, I don’t think that’s normal. Ask your doctor about that tomorrow,” she said. 

I rolled my eyes again.

“Second of all, if you don’t get a period, how do you know if you’re pregnant or not? Isn’t that scary?”

I actually haven’t had a pregnancy scare since going on birth control so I didn’t really have an answer to that. I guess I rely on the 99.9% effectiveness.

My gyno, Dr. Stringer, is a lanky flamboyant man who I would think is gay if he didn’t have photos of his wife and all his kids all over his office. After the nurse drew blood, I got naked and put on a hospital gown and waited for him in the examining room.

“Reese, darling,” he said, knocking on the door. He walked in with the nurse following him. “I was wondering when I would see you again. How have you been?”

See? What straight man says “darling?”

“I’ve been great. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” I said. Usually Dr. Stringer books appointments weeks and weeks out. Luckily since I’m a VIP patient (lol), I was able to get an appointment within a week. 

“Anything for you! Are we just doing your routine yearly checkup today?” he asked.

“Yes. And a pregnancy test,” I replied.

“Of course. Do you have concerns that you may be pregnant?” Dr. Stringer looked at me over the top of his glasses.

“No, I just figure we may as well make sure while I’m here.”

“Very well then.” He put his clipboard down then popped on a pair of latex gloves. “Lay back and spread them!”

The actual examine didn’t take long, but Dr. Stringer talked to me the whole time and made candid comments about my vagina which was really odd. He finally said he was all done and that he and the nurse would be back with some results in a few minutes.

While I was getting dressed, I started to seriously think about what I would do if I was pregnant. I feel like I know Brady pretty well, but not enough to have a baby with him. We would probably have to get married or at least engaged. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment. But on the bright side, at least he already owns an amazing condo and clearly has money to support his family. We would just have to evict Chris and turn his bedroom into a chic Pinterest-worthy nursery and hire a full time nanny/servant. 

By the time Dr. Stringer returned I was convinced that I was pregnant and trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to my parents. They only just found out about Brady.

“All right, Miss Reese,” Dr. Stringer said sitting on the stool in front of me. “I have bad news and I have good news.”

My heart began racing. Bad news and good news? Bad: I was pregnant, good: I didn’t have the clap? Or the other way around?

“The bad news is… You’re not pregnant. The good news is… You’re not pregnant!” Dr. Stringer exclaimed. It took me a moment to process what he said.

“Dr. Stringer!” I groaned. “Don’t freak me out like that!”

He chuckled. “All of your tests came back negative with the exception of a couple that will take a few days to process. If you don’t hear from us within a week then everything is good.”

So there went my dreams of a fabulous nursery with a chandelier imported from Spain. Oh well. I’ve been drinking and smoking so it’s probably for the best. 

After I left the doctor, I celebrated by getting froyo (with gummy bears and sprinkles #yolo) then going to the office. To be honest, I haven’t done much work at all the past week or so, so I figured I should probably get at least something done.

Except I spent the day avoiding Whitney’s emails and pinning pumpkin recipes. After work, I stopped by the boutique Preston works in to pick up a few items. Preston basically had me try on everything in the store until we decided on a dress, a sheer top, and a pair of leather leggings. 

After that I met Kendra for sushi. I was so excited to tell her that I’m not pregnant AND I don’t have STDs.

“So hopefully this is a lesson learned,” she said smugly after I shared the news.

“Well now that we are both STD free, I think we can continue what we were doing,” I said.

“Why would you do that? He could be doing the same thing with ten other women,” Kendra said, looking appalled.

“No he couldn’t. He’s not some player, Kendra. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Okay well do what you want. I’ve given up trying to give you advice. You always do whatever the fuck you want anyway.”

So that was the end of that. I love Kendra to death, but she’s just so judgmental. She always has to object to every single thing I do. She doesn’t understand that everyone’s life isn’t exactly like hers. It’s her way or you’re wrong/stupid. It’s draining. Additionally, how can she lecture me on something she and John do and have done for years? And by the way, I can’t believe we’re arguing about condoms. Ugh.

I went to Brady’s after sushi and immediately ran into Chris. I haven’t seen him since he walked in on me and Brady having sex and I was actually really not embarrassed. Oh well if he might’ve gotten a peek at my goodies. At least he got a nice show. 

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you need a massage.

I was having so much fun hanging out with Brady that I forgot that during the week he works twelve to fourteen hours a day and is exhausted by the time he gets off. He has such a large workload that he can’t text a lot either. I needed a distraction and all of my usual friends were busy (Kendra with her new position at work, Preston with Mr. Murphy and Carly with Chris) so I had dinner and drinks with my college friend, Derrick, on Monday night.

This is going to sound weird, but I can’t really be friends with guys (straight guys anyway. I love my gays). Whenever I’ve had a guy friend, we started off fine as friends then end up hooking up or one of us starts getting feelings for the other. I think it’s because I don’t know how to talk to guys without being flirty. [does anyone else have this problem?]

Derrick had a big crush on me our sophomore year of college and I used to flirt with him just because I thought it was fun(ny). We ended up getting drunk and fooling around then ultimately decided we were better as friends. Obviously. He became one of my favorite drinking buddies though.

We met for sushi. He works in advertising here in the city so we talked about work a lot. We also talked about our college friends, most of whom I haven’t seen since we graduated so there was a lot to talk about. Derrick is one of those people you can not see for years but feel like no time has passed. He kind of gives off a Jake Gyllenhaal vibe, but cuter. 

“You’ve really grown up a lot since college. It’s crazy, you used to be such a party girl and now you’re a mature woman,” Derrick said once the night was winding down.

“Well, that was over two years ago,” I pointed out. “And don’t call say ‘mature woman.’ Makes me sounds like a grandma.”

“Stop that. You don’t look like a grandma. In fact, I think you’ve grown into your looks.”

I swatted him in the chest playfully. “Don’t be mean!”

“I’m not. You look great, honestly.”

He insisted on paying for everything then we headed outside.

“Let’s do this again, Reese,” Derrick said once we got outside. He put an arm around me and leaned down to kiss me, but I quickly turned my head so he caught my cheek/ear.

“Yeah, whatever,” I said.

We agreed that we would hang out again soon. I hope Derrick isn’t going to try this again because I’m not interested in him romantically whatsoever.

I left work early on Tuesday so I could meet Preston at Barney’s to look at dresses. We ended up spending two and a half hours in the dress department, trying on every single thing. The salesgirl kept trying to help us (probably to prevent the huge mess we would leave), but Preston told her that I’m an actress and he’s my personal stylist so we had it under control. She stopped bothering us luckily, but I didn’t even pick anything out. 

We went back to my apartment afterwards and started watching reruns of Chopped. I got a text from Brady around 7:30 saying that he had just gotten off and did I want to meet up. I didn’t even blink before responding, “Sure. You can come over.”

“Preston, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Brady’s coming over,” I said, getting up.

“Pardon me?” he gasped. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yes. Doesn’t Mr. Murphy have a day trip to Jamaica or something planned?”

“No, but we’re probably going to have a ton of wild sex though. Jelly?”

I was jelly. I can’t wait for the day when Brady and I can have a ton of wild sex (is he even into wild sex? I bet he isn’t).

As soon as Preston left, I tidied up a bit. I threw out the copies of Cosmo I had on my coffee table and replaced them with an old marketing textbook from college, a leadership book I had to read for work and the Fifty Shades trilogy (the books are awful, but they’re all I had on hand and I wanted to show Brady that I actually read). 

When he got to my apartment I buzzed him in and waited for him to knock. A few minutes later there was a light, almost timid knock on the door. Of course Brady would knock shyly. I opened the door and he was standing there looking a-freaking-dorable in his dress clothes.

“Come in,” I said, opening the door wider.

Brady walked in and said, “I’ve never been up here. Pretty cool place.”

“Thanks, it’s a little small, but it works,” I said.

I showed him the kitchen, the little dining area, my bedroom, the bathroom then concluded with the living room.

“This is sufficient for one person. And I’m sure the location makes it worth it,” Brady said.

I grabbed us bottles of water and we sat on the couch talking. I asked him to tell me about work since he’s there so much. He explained having to do rounds and see all the patients, including the terminally ill ones which I think is sad. He said he has to walk a ton which is tiring and then since there are sick people the hospital is warm so he’s hot in his work clothes and lab coat all day. Poor guy. He said seeing the patients get better is worthwhile so overall he loves what he does. It made me feel like my job is pretty pointless because ultimately, who am I helping?

“You need a massage,” I told him, getting up. I gestured for him to follow me into the bedroom. “Take off your shirt and lay on the bed.”

“Wow, you mean business,” Brady said, untying his tie.

I rummaged through my closet to find some unscented lotion. Whenever I used to give my ex-boyfriend massages we would almost immediately have sex. There’s just something erotic about massages so I knew it was risky. But we were both sober and it has been long enough, so maybe tonight was the night. I wasn’t opposed to it.

Brady was laying on his back shirtless looking delectable and even though I was enjoying the view I made him flip over. I climbed on him and planted myself on his butt for optimum massage positioning. I squirted one pump of lotion in my hands, rubbed them together and lightly touched Brady’s back. He instantly relaxed.

I ran my hands along the length of his back and used my palms to apply pressure. I’ve been told that I give great massages, but honestly my little hands get tired after only a few minutes. Since it was my idea, I knew I had to last a little longer with Brady. I continued rubbing and kneading his back for a few more minutes. For a guy, Brady has unusually smooth and perfect skin. I really must find out his skin care routine.

“Better?” I asked once I felt like I had carpal tunnel.

“I feel like a new person,” Brady said. He flipped over so he was on his back and I was sitting on his crotch. My heart instantly started beating faster when I felt that he was hard.

“I’ve been told I give decent massages,” I said.

“I certainly agree with that. Where do I sign up for a once a week session?”

“Ask the receptionist when you leave.”

“Do you want to grab food or something?” Brady asked abruptly and for a moment I couldn’t tell if we were still in character.

I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I said, “Sure,” anyway.

We got up and he put his shirt back on while I changed into jeans and a top. We ended up getting froyo then we walked around my neighborhood for a little while. It was a little bit chilly so after we were done with our froyo, we held hands to warm each other up. 

It started to get late and Brady said he needed to be up early for work. He said he might be able to hang out again later this week and he would let me know.

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i deserve an assistant.

Preston won one of those happy hours where the more people who come the cheaper the drinks will be on Wednesday evening. By 6:30, I was already drunk. Carly, Kendra and John were there along with some of Preston’s coworkers and clients. We hadn’t gotten enough people to get the drinks quite as cheap as I wanted so I needed more people to show up. 

I was brainstorming people to invite when I got the bright idea of inviting Brady to happy hour! I quickly typed an iMessage letting him know where happy hour was and how long we planned on being there. I reread it a few times to make sure I spelled everything correctly and used enough puncuation (six exclamation points seemed adequate) and hit send. I waited a moment for his response and when it didn’t come, I tucked my phone in my purse and partied the rest of the night away. 

He actually never texted me back. 

On Thursday, I texted BJ on my way to work letting him know that I was hungover and needed something to cure it. He was waiting outside my office with a bacon and egg breakfast bagel and a parfait when I got there. I don’t know how he knew, but it was exactly what I needed.

“Jeez, you even look hungover,” he said, following me into my office.

“Fuck you,” I said. I snatched my breakfast from him and set up the feast on my desk. 

“Kidding. You look hot as usual.”

I was too busy chewing a bite of the delicious, but carbatious sandwich to respond.

“What exciting things do you have planned for me today?” BJ asked, in a naughty sounding tone.

I finished chewing. “I have 3,500 new emails. I need you to immediately delete any that don’t concern me.”

“Ah, I get access to your email? I hope I uncover something good. Like your nudes.”

“That won’t happen,” I assured him.

“Damn. Maybe one day though.”

He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes. I got up so he could sit at my computer and I sat in a side chair checking Instagram and Facebook. While he worked on my emails it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard from Martin or Rob. I knew they were as busy as me, but I definitely thought I would’ve heard something (besides an invite for drinks) by now.

Once he finished with the emails, we walked down to the breakroom to raid the vending machine. It just so happens that Amanda and an ad teamer named Aron were already there, drinking mugs of coffee. I almost squealed with excitement. I love awkward situations when they don’t involve me.

“Maybe we should come back later,” BJ said, in a low voice. 

“Nope. I really want a Gatorade,” I said. I didn’t, but I did want to see both of them squirm.

“Hey Amanda. Hey Aron,” I said.

They both said hey and Aron started asking me questions about the campaign they’re working on. I chatted with him for a moment while BJ leaned against the counter engrossed in his phone. Then I crossed the room to the vending machine and Amanda let out a shrill laugh.

“Aron! You’re so funny!” she exclaimed way too loudly.

He said something else and she screamed again. She put a hand on his chest and continued laughing obnoxiously.

God. Could she be any more desperate?

I got my Gatorade and walked back over to them. “What are you guys laughing about?”

Amanda looked taken aback, but quickly recovered and smiled. “Aron said something funny.”

“Oh.”

Amanda poured the rest of her coffee out and practically ran out of there which made me feel kind of bad because obviously I scared her away. But not really.

Later that afternoon I had a meeting with the publisher of a local magazine who wanted to do a feature on our company. I decided to bring BJ along to take notes. It was nice to have a personal assistant and I’m going to ask Diana about hiring one for me full time. I think I deserve it. 

Afterward, we stopped and got froyo which probably isn’t allowed, but whatever. I won’t tell if he won’t. BJ made fun of me for only getting almonds and blueberries on mine, but putting chocolate and gummy bears on it would just be irresponsible.

We ate our froyo on the way back to the office and BJ said, “Try this.”

I scoffed. “No. You have cereal and candy and shit in there. I’m an adult.”

He smirked. “It’s so good.” 

BJ stopped on the sidewalk and backed me into a brick building. He scooped up a spoonful of his melting and dripping froyo and shoved it into my mouth. It annoyed me that it tasted so good. I wiped my chin where some of the froyo had dripped and took a few seconds to chew the Lucky Charms and gummy bears. 

“It was okay,” I said.

BJ licked his lips and stared down at me for way too long without saying anything. He glanced down at my lips and lingered there for a moment then looked back up. I thought he was going to kiss me so I said, “Let’s go!” and walked a foot ahead of him all the way back to the office.

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