before i forget

1.

I officially quit my job last Thursday. I kept everything professional, and I did not drop the mic like a scorned rapper.

“I don’t want to leave the company in a bad spot,” I told my boss, “so please just let me know when you want my last day to be. I can stop now, or I can work a few extra weeks next year if you want.”

My boss, being the indecisive leader that he was (is), needed to speak to the CEO about my last day. Why he became a boss despite his inability to make any decision is a nepotism-themed mystery that isn’t worth telling but, anyway — the CEO decided that I could stay until the end of year. I could also take the last week off and get paid, so long as I finish handing over the tasks by next week.

So there is that. A chapter of my life is ending; a new one is about to start.

I feel a heavy tug in my chest every now and then. Am I making the right decision? Am I shooting myself in the foot by leaving? I spoke with my friend S who was in the same boat as me not too long ago. She told me that this is all normal. Feeling anxious and nervous after quitting is normal. It will take some time, but things will eventually settle down.

I sure hope S is right.

2.

I went to see my coworker Duke’s dance performance on the day I resigned. I thought I was going with just two other folks from Duke’s department, but the CEO was apparently also invited.

“I heard the news,” the CEO told me as we were walking from the office to the dance studio. “Where are you heading to next?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I told her. “I’m still weighing my options.”

I wasn’t quite honest. I just thanked her for all the opportunities she had given me, and I said some good words about the company. Despite all the shit that I had to go through, I still wish the company well. I wouldn’t have met the friends that I have now if not for the trauma and the toxicity that we all had to suffer through together.

When we got to the dance studio, I was quickly reminded of one of my favorite movies Frances Ha. It was a studio for a small dance company that specializes in jazz. The performance stage was small and dark, and the seats were arranged in an incline similar to movie theaters where the backmost row is at the highest point. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a performing hall like this. Very cool.

The recital itself was also very cool. Duke started taking jazz lessons at this company not too long ago, and this recital on a Thursday lunchtime was their mini Christmas offering. It was very informal. The dance instructors spoke in between the routines and explained the influences behind the choreographies. The performers, including Duke, also introduced themselves at the beginning. A lot of them were dance majors in college, but there were also a few like Duke who just love to dance as a hobby.

3.

A small but notable detail: I was hungover the day I quit my job and watched the dance performance. My tummy was twisting and churning, and I was worried that I would hurl vomit at my boss in the middle of my I Am Quitting spiel.

I drank a lot the night prior, that’s why. I had two glasses of beer, a glass of double vodka tonic, and god-knows-how-many-shots of soju. It was our coworker’s going-away party, so some of us went to a bar to celebrate. Yes, I wasn’t the only person who resigned last week. Yes, it’s that bad.

My friend MM and her boyfriend drove me to my apartment that night. I remember puking in a garbage bag during the car ride, and then puking again on the snow-covered road as I was walking from the car to my building. My head was spinning when I woke up the following morning. My lips were dry as Sahara, and I could taste the blood gushing out of the cracks every time I moved my mouth.

I had to Uber to the office on my resignation day. I left my car in a downtown parking lot overnight, and boy was I glad it was still there the next morning.

4.

My office crush, which for the purposes of telling this story I will now start calling The Boy, was one of the people who joined us for drinks. It was on this day, the day before I resigned, when The Boy gave me his number. (Cue music: fade in Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” charot.)

I was going around the office asking people to sign the goodbye card for Anna, our coworker who quit. The Boy was not at his desk when I walked by. Right before lunch, The Boy showed up at my desk with another coworker so they could sign the card.

After writing his message, The Boy asked, “Hey, you want to go with us for lunch?”

I almost choked on my own spit. The lonely jade plant on my desk perked up, and the clouds shimmied away from the noontime sun. All of a sudden, the entire city was 10,000 lux brighter.

“I would love to,” I said. “Anna invited me for lunch though, do you guys wanna join them?”

Anna already started eating with her team when we got to the restaurant, so The Boy and our group sat at a different table. There were five of us, and The Boy sat beside me. At one point, he asked when I’m going for vacation. “I didn’t see your name in the time-off calendar,” he told me, and my mind immediately thought, wait, so you look for my name? Kilig!

After lunch, we had a company gift-wrapping party. People were trickling in and out of the kitchen. Everyone was chatting, drinking, and wrapping gifts. I was talking to another coworker about rock climbing when The Boy butted in.

“Hey J, how often do you climb?”

“Before my coughing fit I used to climb almost every day,” I said. “Why, do you climb?”

“Yes!”

“Woah, really? You wanna climb together?”

“Yes! I don’t think I have your number though, so just text me.”

“I don’t have your number either. Can I message you elsewhere?”

“I can just give you my number?”

And that, my friends, is the story of How I Got The Boy’s Number.

5.

The Boy and I were invited to a group chat with the coworkers who went out for drinks during Anna’s night. When I resigned the following day, I sent the group a message: Is anyone in the office today?

Instead of replying to the group, The Boy messaged me directly: Me and R are here!

I already made plans with other friends by the time he sent me the DM, so I just responded with the big news.

ME:
Hey, I resigned today.
Thought I should let you know before you hear it from other people.
Let’s stay in touch!

THE BOY:
Omg.
Are you busy right now?
We can have coffee if you want!

ME:
I’m going for late lunch with Y, but I’ll be in the office next week.
We can have coffee then!

THE BOY:
Sounds good!

And that’s the extent of our text exchange. Could this be the start of something new? It feels all right to be here with you? Char.

6.

I took Friday off and didn’t do much the entire day. For dinner I went for pho with my friend S, then we went to a supermarket to buy stuff. When I got home, I just chilled for a bit until my scheduled game night with some friends. We played Phasmophobia for almost five hours before calling it a night.

Saturday morning I started playing Gris, a game that I learned about through Gleniz’s blog. Saturday afternoon I was supposed to go on a date, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I felt bad flaking on the dude. He deserves someone who’s in a much better place. I mean, I just resigned from my job and I still stalk The Guy on Twitter every day. I haven’t quite moved on yet, unfortunately.

7.

Sunday morning I watched the World Cup finals. Argentina won! Woohoo!

For those who are relatively new to this blog: yes, I am a football fan. I follow La Liga, I cheer for FC Barcelona, and I believe Leo Messi is the GOAT with or without the World Cup trophy.

That finals match though — wooooh! It was intense, man. My heart went up my throat, my lungs were deflated, and my ass was clenched the entire freaking time. Definitely one of the best matches I have ever seen! There’s nothing quite like it, man. It was glorious.

8.

An hour after the World Cup finals, The Guy texted me. This, after a month of radio fucking silence.

The Guy said that he’d been busy and that he just got back from Vancouver. No apologies, no nothing. I did not reply. I did not know what to say. Welcome back? Gusto mo medal? Tanginamocca?

A few hours after he sent his “I just got back” message, he sent another text: Musta na?

I still haven’t responded. I still do not know what to say.

What do you think? Should I text back? I want to text him again, I really do, but a part of me feels like I’m about to fall for yet another trap. Maybe it’s best to just ignore him, eh, for my own sake?

I don’t know, man. Quitting my job, letting my apartment thrive in its own filth, dealing with this douchebag — I’m just all over the place right now, man, and I don’t like it. I have only a few days left in the year. I really, really need to get my life sorted.

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