Wearing My Emotions

This weekend, we had our office Christmas party. I know that many of you are rolling your eyes because often, these kinds of events are their own special brand of torture. Believe me. I have been there, too. Ours is a bit different, though.

Because we are a relatively small company, we have this intimate affair with great food, wine and some sort of live music. Last year there was a harpist. This year, we had four musicians playing Christmas carols on violin. It is low key, tasteful and very, very conservative. The men dress in suit and tie and the women are just one Spanx garment shy of a ball gown. This year, I asked Dallas to be my date. Gulp.

Besides being a great sport about shucking on a suit, Dallas allowed himself to be introduced and scrutinized by the thirty odd people at our event. They had all heard of him, knew he rode and had seen up close that I was crazy about him. In the four and a half years that I have worked for this company, I have never once showed any real interest in a man so it was only natural that my work family would be interested to lay eyes on this "Harley" guy. He was charming, attentive and a perfect gentleman. I was thrilled to be there with him.

Later that night, we went on to a local club with Steph the Magnificent and her husband. After a few cocktails, it was decided that the four of us would try to get to a Nascar event sometime next year. Steph promised me that I wouldn't have to flash my boobs and just like that, my metamorphosis into a southern Republican began.(NOT!)

Yesterday, those of us in the local office were gathered around the water cooler rehashing the party. The girls told me how happy I looked and that Dallas and I made a cute couple. I gushed like a school girl, of course because I don't seem to have an emotional off switch where he is concerned. Then, this delivery arrived:



It seems that Dallas was thinking of me and wanted me to know. The bouquet was lovely but it was the card that made me misty. One of the girls in the office whispered to me that I "wear love well".

And truthfully, this is the singular instance in my life where I could care less that I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve.