The thing about my job as a security guard, the aspect that I love the most, is that I don't talk to anybody. Hardly ever at any rate.
Sure, there is the other guard that I relieve every morning (and see again at night) on the weekends. He is ten years older than me. Also a bit shy and awkward and nerdy. He has a mail-order bride that he seems to truly love (They talked for years online before they met). We talk for a few minutes during the changeover. Usually about books. He is a big fan of time-travel novels. Gets real into talking about time-travel books. And Roman history, but only the late Republic to the death of Augustus.
But other than that, the most I usually get is a silent nod from one of the workers there working overtime.
Which is, again, a feature not a bug.
I spend my time listening to college lectures on history, philosophy, and religion. I color in a coloring book. I walk around and listen to the crickets and think about life and whatnot.
But there happens to be a woman that works there. Usually only during my night shifts. I have never talked to her because she is always at work, she does something in the machine shop, works with heavy metal.
She reminds me of a 40s pinup model. Dark red hair. At least one tattoo. A sort of Rockabilly Rosie the Riveter. I typically only see her in full coveralls, her hair back, safety goggles on. And at that, usually from across the factory floor as I make my regular patrol.
We make eye contact sometimes, but never for long. I always break first. Look down. I don't want to be a creep or whatever. Plus I am so very shy and it's not like we can talk in the machine shop with all of the loud machines whirring and buzzing.
I have seen her a time or two sans coveralls. I guess during times she gets off early, I don't know. Again, we've never talked. But yes, sans coveralls. And I won't lie, I felt the experience of lust.
And I say all of this like it is a big deal or an object of real obsession and it's not that at all. I think of her when I see her and sometimes that thought lingers as I finish my patrol. But usually by the time I'm back to the guard shack, I'm back to thinking of post-modern film theory or whatever else.
And yes, occasionally, there might have been some naked alone times where she has entered my mind. When I imagine scenarios involving no one else but us on the factory floor.
Which, of course, only makes me more awkward when I walk by her and notice (or do I just imagine?) her eyes follow me across the room.
Anyway, I say all this because she talked to me today.
She was working a rare day shift. A bit of mandatory overtime. Everyone that works there was there today. I have never seen so many people there, as we typically only have guards during the off hours.
And she saw me as I was walking by and locked eyes with me, tilted her head slightly and smiled. Kept the eye contact as I walked by and right when I was closer to her than I have ever been, she said "I thought you only worked nights."
Oh, I work nights on Mondays and Tuesdays, Saturdays and Sundays I am here all day. But what about you? How are you feeling being here when the sun is shining?
"I like it. I prefer days. Working up the ladder though. We all start with the shitty shifts."
And I said something else that was trite and dumb. She smiled a knowing mischievous smile.
I panicked and said goodbye.
I didn't learn her name. Didn't say anything charming. Barely talked at all, really.
I was never good at this. And I am way out of practice.
I don't even know if this was all just a by-product of boredom and friendliness or if she also sometimes imagines things about the quiet security guard that likely blushes when she looks at him.
And of course, it doesn't matter anyway.
Monogamy and all that.
Plus, my chronic pain is presently at a point where sex is little more than a fantasy for me anyway.
(I am already doing heavy breathing just by being awake. Pain is pain is pain and is terrible all the time).
But she gave a smile that I recognize in lovers past.
A maybe wishful-thinking glint in her eye.
But maybe not.
Who the hell am I to say?
An autistic homeschooled pastor's kid. I never know when someone is flirting with me or, God forbid, thinking sexual thoughts about such a person as myself.
But I enjoyed it. Enjoyed the memory of being desired. Enjoyed the fantasy that I am, somehow, desired by her.
And maybe I will see her tomorrow or Monday night.
Perhaps looks or words will be exchanged.
Is that all I am hoping for? It's all so tame.
This all makes my sex life slightly less steamy than a Jane Austen novel, but I'm kind of here for it.
Subtlety is nice sometimes. A little harmless work crush.
A little something to pass the time.
Or not. Or more. We'll see.
6:39 p.m. - 2023-08-19
Recent entries:
Conflicted - 2023-10-16
A Dark and Meandering Path of Wayward Thoughts - 2023-10-08
A Bit of a Nothing Entry - 2023-09-28
To Be Born Again, You Must Surely Die - 2023-09-08
Those Left Behind. - 2023-09-01
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
dudemanflab
littlesushi
alethia
swordfern
jim515
warpednormal
gr8legs
loveherwell
alwaysinhim
lust-
holdensolo
bantenhut
i-am-jack
musicman575
comebacktome
aryssa90
i-lost-sarah
newschick
stardumb
hexes
gonzoprophet
meffinmisfit
cybers1ut
movingsands
unowhatilike
the-grey-one
dangerspouse
silverluna
elusive-you
tobehis
kenny-loo
brothasistas
my-rant
is-life
godsintimate
ruby--sky
darkly-blue
spittingame
reevo
similar
dooki
obijuan
dagkyo
buddyboy5
u2october
nudeplatypus
mojo1915
cindylou03
baby--girl
poetinthesky
greenstar7
creme-egg
krunkjazz
jimbostaxi
browndamask