Of Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding

I can't remember the last time i got dressed up, but this evening, i put on a white halter neck top i bought in Singapore and moisturized my lips to make sure they are, well, kissable.

My boss  turned 38 this week. He only had two friends, myself included. Sad little person.

So, his two friends invited him out for a drink. In the meantime, Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding asked if i was free for the night.

Being single means that you get to Sophie's Choice yourself once in a while. I'd like to go out for a drink with Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding and indulge in harmless flirting, and maybe if God agree, we could snuggle for a bit (yes, i am dying for a man's touch. I don't even mind if he's related!). On the other hand, it's been years since my boss and I hung out for a drink and I'd really like to catch up with him.

So I invited Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding along for my boss's birthday party. I half expected Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding to decline, but he agreed.

[wow!]

The session went well. We talked about work and how to Jack Donaghy in power meetings (did you know that you must wear dark colored tie such as red, navy, or black during power meetings? Try checking out Obama's tie).

Everything was interesting, and then, Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding stroked my thigh with the back of his hands.

It.
Felt.
Good.

I have to be honest. It felt really good for two seconds until i remembered the promise i made to Friend from High School and Dude from Work (and myself, of course). If i get into sex, they'll walk out of my life so fast, my panties would spin.

So, NO. As much as I'd like to do the nasty with Mr.Best-Man-at-Sister's-Wedding, i went home instead.

Play on, Playa.