Friday, May 20, 2011

We Have Drinks With Fuck Face

We get into work today and the first thing Fuck Face says to us as we stand in his new office door is, “Cute dress”. The dress is a simple dress, brown stretchy cotton over which we wore a baby blue cardigan; on our feet are brown Airwalks.

Cute? Really? Stop ass kissing, we think; and then we smile inside.

He doesn’t have to be nice to us. He really doesn’t. He shouldn’t. He should not comment on our appearance, or anything else of that nature. We think he only tries to keep us a bit interested because it fuels his ego. He’s really stupid. He’s living in a barn because he’s told his wife he had an affair (so he says); that affair was with us – of course he has not told her it’s with us. We forced his hand in telling her. He has given us what we think is plenty of information to prove he has actually done it, but we can’t help but remain a tiny bit skeptical.

We have a short day on Friday, a roughly four hour shift. On Fridays we have to do things like ordering, inventory and have meetings with Fuck Face.

While doing ordering we sat next to him at his desk in his new office; we gaze at him, look at his light brown eyes until our mind goes blank.

‘Is that a different perfume?” he asks.

We tell him that, no, it’s the same one that we were wearing the other day. It probably smells different because of the coconut lotion we had applied to our legs that morning we tell him.

“So. How was your night?” we say after a bit, looking at the side of his face. We want to touch his face. We hate ourselves right now. We wish Melody was a part of us today; or even Sam. They seem to be on "vacation". Perfect. 

“Sad.” He says, and describes it as an emotional rollercoaster. He tells us how he enjoys being at work for the distraction because once he gets home to the barn, he has more time to think. He has no more to say about it, we have to finish our ordering.

We are staring at him as we sit close, him in his chair, us in ours. We are close enough he can smell our perfume. We eye his shirt and comment on it, and tell him how much we liked the one he wore the day before. He tells us it was vintage, and that makes us smile. We love that he is into fashion.

Later we are in a small storage room doing inventory and he is in first, he jokes about how we have him in a corner for the second time in two weeks. We have a good little laugh and he jokes about latex gloves we are inventorying, saying we never got a chance to do anything with them and then h e contemplate silently what he would do with them.

As he is leaving the room it’s a tight squeeze and we don’t move as he passes by us, his body facing ours, his face inches from us and he looks us in the eye; we want to kiss him. Under our breath we say “Asshole” and he says “You didn’t move” and looks at us with a grin.

We had to go to a meeting a short distance from our workplace a little later and while we wait for an elevator with him he can tell by the smirk on our face what is going through our head, he can always read us like a book, and he wants to hear what’s on our mind, even though he admittedly knows what we are thinking. We tell him we won’t give him the satisfaction.

We get into the elevator and we are both thinking the same thing. We’re thinking about having sex with each other in the elevator. We laugh and he says “Soooo” and we attempt small talk with him as we giggle nervously and he just grins at us with that look. We want him bad and he’s been doing nothing but flirting with us all day, and exchanging sexual innuendo.

In the meeting room waiting for others we say that it sure would be nice to go for a drink “don’t you think?”

“Are you asking me to go for a drink?” he asks. He knows we are.

Before we can say anything more than “maybe” more people come into the room.

As we take lead of the meeting we catch him staring at us in that certain way, as he is seated next to us, and it’s not totally sexual but it’s a look. We know he’ll go for drinks with us. He’s also going to make us ask. God, we love him, is all we can think; and we desperately want to spend time with him.

As we wait in the lobby we mention drinks again and he asks, again, if we are asking him.

“Do you want to go for a drink?” we ask, and before he can respond Important Boss joins us and we wait until later to ask again.

We get to the office and he comes to our door to ask us about some random item and we give him the drinking motion that we usually use when he, or us, don’t want to use words.

“You didn’t really ask me.” He says

“We asked you already but we got interrupted!” we laugh as we stretch in our chair. “Do you want to go for a drink?” we ask him.

“You know the answer to that” he grins and blushes a little

“Actually I don’t” we say.

He half heartedly rolls his eyes, his blush deepens a little more and he says “Of course I want to.”

Shortly after he agrees to drinks we head out the door, we are happy but reserved. We really don’t know what to expect. He knows we love him, he's known for months. It's torture. We had sent him a message the night before apologizing for snapping at him at work when we had been walking out the door, saying “we have issues on four different levels right now”. 

He replied to the message saying there is no need to apologize, and that if we have issues the best thing to do would be to sit down with whoever it was we had issues with and talk to them about whatever it is that we have issues with.

We explain to him one of the issues is the volunteer situation at work and: “And we've already told you everything we can possibly tell you, and you're part of the issue. You know by now what our issue is: we love you and it's killing us and we don't know how to stop - that in itself is about three different issues.”

He replies with: “I know about the last 3 issues. That is something I keep in my mind as much as I can.”

And then in the next paragraph advises us on how to deal with the work situation.

We respond telling him that we wish he’d just forget about our feelings because it is no excuse for us to act in the way we do, and does not excuse our poor behaviour to hi; and then we thank him for the work advice.

On the walk to the pub today we start out with pleasant chit chat, then we say “Uh, guess it’s probably a stupid thing to ask, but, what are you up to this weekend?” we just want to know what he has planned, we always ask, just like he always asks us.

His answer is that he is doing nothing. He is restricted to the barn; he is in charge of all the chores and is doing them by himself. We ask about the fence that he was supposed to be finishing and he says, again, that it’s on hold.

“I’d think she’d at least have you finish that, you know, put you to work and stuff” we say.

He explains that to finish it they have to go purchase the rest of the lumber and cut it to length.

“Oh” we say “you’d have to work together then?” This makes sense to us, since she has yet to really talk to him about anything other than “the issue” and they probably can’t work together right now.

We talk about books and poetry as we walk, he tells us about some of the books he’s been reading. He’s got lots of time to read now.  

When we try to decide where we are going we suggest the usual place. He makes a joke about how that had worked out in the past. We tell him the issue had been the alleys we visited after, not the actual drinking locale.

We go to a new drinking location a half a block from our old one, where the patio is empty and we share foi gras terrine and drink white wine while we wait for our burgers and fries.

As we are sitting there, listening to him talk he gives us a funny look and says that the look we are giving him is unnerving.

“What look?” we ask.

“The look of adoration. It’s unnerving” he says.

“Well we can try to look at you like we hate you again” we laugh.

He says he’d rather us not look at him in either way. We can’t do that, we tell him, but we try our best.

He says that we are the one that asked him to drink, after all.

We say he could have said no.

He says that we know how much he likes to drink and of course he would say yes to drinks with us. We think given the particular situation he is in with The Wife due to us, that having drinks with us would be the last thing he wants.

We tell him that next time he can drink by himself, we try to be bitchy and it doesn’t quite come off right.

He says that he does already, everyday; in the barn with the horse and cats.

All of a sudden he says “I was sad last night because I was thinking about how I wasn’t going to get to drink with my friend anymore. And that made me sad”.

It’s almost a punch in the heart. We know how he feels. We want to be his friend too. But we want so much more, and that’s just not possible. He plans to stay with his wife if she decides to keep him. He loves her, not us, after all.

As we eat we analyze the wine together, we discuss the food and what we like, or don’t like about it. We discuss the company that owns it and both agree that we’d like to eat the house-made mayonnaise with a spoon. We’re having a good time, like we usually do; not like the last time we went for drinks.

We tell him about Skyping with Forrest last night, our first love, a man he’s read about. The only other man we’ve loved like we love him. We told him about we had just talked, and made faces at each other and he played guitar for us; how we do that about once a month. We are trying to convey to him that we’re not doing dirty things with other men on the internet, something he seems to think that we do once in awhile.

“That sounds very intimate” he says. He and I are just finishing eating the foie gras with bread and almost done with our first glasses of white wine, a Torrontes from a Canadian label.

He knows all about Forrest on a level, he’s read our story about him, back when we allowed him to read our blog. We talk about Forrest and tell him about wishing to see him, if only to walk around, shove each other around and skip rocks on the lake like we used to when we were 15 and he was 17; when we were both in love with each other.

We get done with the pate and all of a sudden he gets this angry look on his face says he’s stabby; citing his anger for this stabby feeling. We switch topics from Forrest to something neutral and he forgets about how stabby-hunrgy he is. We have to relocate to a new table while we wait for our burgers and he seems to go back to normal as we discuss the new table location and it’s merits.

Later, while we are eating fries, both of us dipping them in gobs of house-made mayo, we tell him that many of the woman on Twitter hate him because he’s cheating on his wife; we don’t mention that also because he has treated us badly, he already has acknowledged that fact; and we say “and the men just think you’re stupid” we say.

“I am stupid” he says.

We retort, after taking a bite of a French fry, “they don’t think you’re stupid because you are cheating. They think you’re stupid because you don’t like me.” It’s true. There are some men who know this story, who know us more than others, that think he’s pretty dumb.

“I do like you” is all he says. He has to know that we don’t mean like-like. We mean LIKE-Like as in, love.

We talk to him about traveling plans, telling him we are not sure where to take our vacation. He suggests a small town north of the city, rather than the bigger cities we say we want to visit so we can have a chance to meet some of our Twitter followers. We’ve got a list of possibilities, and so many people we’d like to meet.

We continue eating our food. He comments on a gay couple walking nearby, one of which had checked out an alley. We laugh about alleys, not our private joke anymore, but still, at the time it’s just him and us.

We ask if we can have the pickle off of his plate and he makes a joke about only if we eat it slowly “very slowwwly”. He makes us laugh and for the first bite we oblige.

We tell him he has to stop doing things like that because we have to be able to think of him as a friend, not in the way we currently think of him. We are trying to work on protecting what is left to protect; the damage already done, we are so in love with him that it’s out of control. Pathetic, is what rings through our head. We don’t like how much we love him, we don’t understand it, yet we do, because we look at him and despite all the things that have gone on between him and us, all the things that are bad that we haven’t even written about…despite those things there is something about our friend, this man, that makes us love him. He is an asshole.

We get up to leave after we take our last sips of wine, and we follow him. Of course he walks across the street and takes us through the alley he had mentioned previously.

We joke about what he is trying to do, taking us through this alley; saying he knows what we want to do in that alley.

He says that all we have to do is have self control. He is testing us. We don’t know why.

All the way through the alley all we can think of is shoving him against a building wall and kissing him; doing things in broad day light that we should not do with him. We miss kissing him. We start to fidget with our necklace, rubbing the amulet dangling against our chest, slowly twisting the chain.

We get through the alley and we semi punch the air and give the air a thumbs up and say “Self control!!” and giggle uncomfortable. He laughs.

We make a comment about being glad there were no more alleys to go through to get to the destination, which is the direction of his wife’s office.

With that he takes us down back alleys for the duration of the trip. He takes us through alleys we had been making our in two weeks ago this Saturday when we went for drinks and to a metal show with him. He knows what we are thinking; he can always tell, even though he always asks – he asks because he wants to hear the words he knows; it’s all about his ego. He want to know that we are thinking of doing dirty things with him in the alleys.

We keep walking; we’re fidgeting with our necklace now, twisting the chain tight and fast, and chewing on it, running it along our teeth. He knows why and asks if we are going to be okay. He’s always asked that, from the very beginning when he knows we become “frustrated” around him.

He tries to insinuate that all the control is up to us. We get the feeling that he’s trying to leave the decision   to be naughty in the alley up to us – if only to abolish responsibility. This all feels familiar, it’s exactly like the weeks leading up the beginning of the affair.

In our head they, we, are saying “Do it, push him into that corner”; “Don’t you fucking dare, he will just keep using us!”; “Why is he doing this? Isn’t he afraid of what would happen if his wife even found out we were still drinking together?”; “Kiss him! Let’s do dirty things!”; "He’s been lying to us”. Some tell others to shut up, and they all wish Melody were around to help make this decision, she is cold and unyielding; they don’t trust me because they know I love him too, just as much as the rest of us. I am in charge of managing what we all want right now.

He comments on how just last week we were saying we didn’t want to drink with him, and now here we are. We know he is expecting us to give in, to succumb to our desires. It’s difficult not to.

“You know we’d love to shove you in a corner. We just know it’s a dead end. It’s not a healthy situation for” we indicate our body with our hands and end with a swirl around the head with our hand because that is our way to indicate all of us. ‘It’s not healthy for the system” we say.

He makes an unintelligible noise that could be an agreement, but we don’t know.

Standing on the corner of the street waiting to cross we tell him to let us know when to stop following him. We know we’re close to his wife’s office and we don’t know how close he wants us to get to the location while we are walking next to him. This is the closest we’ve ever been.

“When we cross the street” he says.

We explain to him it’s really difficult to not do what we want to do “just know that” we say, he blushes a little, like he does when we reject him a little saying these words, because we have before and we know his responses.

As the light changes and we cross the street we say our final words and before departing he tells us he will see us Tuesday (because we have Monday off). We know he will be at work on Monday so we make a joke about coming in for a bit anyway, just for fun. We know if we actually go in it will just to be to see him, to say hi and to find out how his weekend is – because we will miss him over the weekend. We miss him already.

We “text” him to his Facebook account on the way home and tell him:
“Next time you take us on a tour of alleys we will assume it's for the reason of action on our part, and will proceed accordingly.
But see, we have self control:)”
See. Self control. Almost.

For the month of May, Mental Health Awareness Month, we will be posting this at he bottom of each of our entries, to help provide additional information about us, and about Dissociative Identiry Disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder.

10 Things You Should Know About US That MIGHT Surprise YOU:
  1. We used to be a Baptist missionary (yeah, can you fucking believe that shit?!) [we are NOT religious]
  2. We were once married (didn’t last long) [one of our stories talks about him]
  3. We have had nearly 30 physical addresses in 30 years, mostly as an adult (nothing could contain us in the early days) [we actually own a house, but choose not to live in it]
  4. We’ve lived in 2 countries: 1 province and 6-7 different states (running much)
  5. We have lost 120 pounds since the age of 24 (100 of it when we were 24) [and it's close to 140 pounds now)
  6. We have a full time job (well, now it's 32 hours a week - but they actually let us work around the other humans!) [it get's harder everyday, and this is the longest we've ever had a single job since we were 17. We've been there almost a year]
  7. We deal with social anxiety type symptoms every day (and these days we choose not to leave home much, but for going to work) [there are about three people we feel comfortable with being in public with and sometimes we have to be out there alone]
  8. We have multiple “mental illness” diagnoses (doesn't everybody?) [p.s. all misdiagnosed]
  9. We have two beautiful cats, who piss us off every day (but they are special, because they put up with us) [though one of us hates them beyond belief]
  10. We have struggled to survive, over and over, defeating the odds thrown against us (read our stories) [seriously, how are we not dead yet?]
We've copied the stories written here that are specifically about our past (mostly abuse) and moved them to our other blog, called:

Addressing The Issue of Frank: The Origins, History and Life Story of Frank, from "Just Call Me Frank: One Womans Endeavour At Being Frank"  
(this blog also contains our artwork/photography - the following links will take you to that blog)
·                     1. Addressing The Issue of Frank: Part 1
·                     2. The Emergence of Frank: The Beginning
·                     3.The Emergence of Frank: The Second Coming
·                     4. The Emergence of Frank: Three Times A Rescuer
·                     5. The Emergence of Frank: Frank's Failure
·                     6. We Go To University & We Take A Lover (links to our other blog)
·                     7. Collision: The Other Girls Terrible Car Accident - Franks Coma
Some of our writing on this blog we like to promote, these are those entries since mid-January 2011. There are bits of writing in this blog that we do not actually promote due to embarrassment over things that some have written - they are here for our own tracking - they are angry, mean, scary things. If you feel like it you can find them on your own. Here are the highlights of what we have written so far this year:
The Mental Health Entries:
Dissociative Identity Disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder
Humour/Random Fun:
If you have any questions for us we are very open and will answer to our best ability - this is totally the month to ask us questions. You can either ask us on Twitter, in the comment section of a blog entry here, or e-mail us at justcallmefrank2010 (at)

Resources for You - facts, figures and personal stories of other people can be found on these sites:
National Institute of Mental Health:
American Psychological Association:
Canadian Mental Health Association:
Mental Health Europe:
World Psychiatric Association:


  1. Hmm I do find it ironic that in an older entry he said to you "Please, don't ruin my life."

    Seems to me that you don't have to. He does a pretty good job of that himself. Not trying to be an ass, just honest. Taking a previous 'interest' through alleyways with tempting conversation and sideways glances isn't exactly the best way of saying you learned your lesson.

  2. We agree!

    This is why we are so confused!

    Is he trying marriage-death by mistress-cide?

    He's really pushing the envelope, and by envelope we mean the apology e-mail we'll send to his wife.

    Maybe he's just afraid to make his own decisions. Maybe it's his way of asking us to complete the task at hand.

    He's a fucking idiot. Good thing we love him. For him, clearly not for us.

  3. I had something similar with a co-worker but nothing happened of it. It was was a "yeah it would be fun/nice/whatever wouldn't it?" Type thing. Could have but didn't. It was resolves so I thought.

    Of course she kept at it with the not so subtle fuck jokes and dirty talk. Eventually I had to tell her to stop or quit talking to me, it wasn't fun anymore. It pissed her off, but it worked. I was just tired of listening to her try to get a reaction out of me. It gets annoying to listen to "that's what she said" type blather really easily. How many times can you work wet or hard or whatever into a conversation before it sounds comical. LOL oh well. I find it comical.

  4. abrs...
    we keep posting and removing our comment...

    Thought you didn't want to know about this situation? xoxo
    Skype soon? Let's not wait a month this time...XO

  5. I'm just going to be honest..reading the trials and tribulations of Fuck Face makes me want to call up my old work flame :)