Fraternization in the workplace is usually a big no-no. And as a young 22-year old who had just started her first full-time job, I knew sleeping with a coworker would have dire consequences on my reputation.
After all, I was a career woman now. I wasn’t going to ruin my professional life by screwing my way around the office.
But that’s until I met Harold.
Harold was a shy, front-end developer at the tech start-up I was working at. He was adorably cute. Geeky, sure. But those thick-framed glasses and slightly too-tight buttoned-up shirts were cute…in a geeky way.
At first, I didn’t know if Harold was even interested in me, or any girls for that matter. He kept his head down while he typed and only came up for air to grab a soda or a bag of chips from the kitchen.
But strangely, that made me want him even more. I was determined to make that weird little nerd mine.
The best thing about working in a start-up was the never-ending supply of alcohol that was somehow always around. Mimosa breakfast meetings, beers for lunch, early 3 pm happy hours with tequila shots. Drinking was part of the work culture. And thankfully, drinking also gave me more opportunities to shoot my shot with Harold.
After a drunken office party one night, I finally got the liquid courage to make my move. We were standing in the bathroom hall corridor when I planted a sloppy, tequila-infused kiss on his lips.
From that moment on, we were inseparable. And roughly six months later, Harold and I moved in together.
I adored my office romance. I could peer over my computer monitor and see him anytime I wanted. We could drive to work together each morning. We could sit by each other at lunch. We could end our workdays simultaneously and carpool back to our apartment.
And because we worked in such a young company (the CEO and approximately 90% of the company was under the age of 28), no one seemed to mind.
But as the company started to grow, the need to bring in more external professionals became necessary. We had just raised our first round of funding, which meant we had board members. And those board members needed executives that knew their shit.
That’s when they hired Jonathan.
Jonathan was an experienced IT manager hired from England. With nearly two decades of management experience, he was the perfect candidate to convince the board that we were a real company and not just an office full of drunk college grads.
He was also devilishly handsome. And, let me tell you, having an English accent didn’t hurt either.
The only thing was, Jonathan was a huge asshole.
Tasked with growing the engineering department, Jonathan became Harold’s boss. Under his reign, new processes were implemented that disrupted everything the current team knew. Engineers were no longer allowed to leave before 5 pm. Lunches could no longer be more than 45 minutes. And worst of all — engineers could no longer work from home.
If you think about it, Jonathan was just doing his job. But to everyone else, he was satan with a suit and a silly way of saying “schedule.”
And oh my god, was I desperately attracted to that.
Was it the accent? Was it the power? Was it the control? Was it that he was almost 20 years older than I was? Yes, to all of the above. My heart would race whenever I walked by his desk. He wasn’t my boss, but I fantasized about having 1-on-1 meetings about my career goals while he spanked me with a Union Jack flag.
Because of my new love interest, I found myself slowly peeling away from Harold. We still had our apartment, but we’d arrive separately instead of commuting together. We started to do more things with our individual friends, instead of with a group like we always did.
And then, things started to heat up between Jonathan and me.
At first, our conversations at work were fairly innocent. I’d ask him about living in London, and he’d come to me for advice about what to do or where to eat in town. But then, we started to share more about our personal lives.
“You know, I think you’re way out of Harold’s league,” he said coyly, shoveling a fork full of salad into his mouth.
“Oh,” I responded, darting my eyes around the room to see if anyone heard.
“Now, don’t get me wrong. He’s a nice guy. But, it just seems like you need someone more, well, established to keep up with you. And Harold? I just don’t see him going anywhere in life.”
I blinked.
“I mean, look at you,” he said, motioning his hand in my direction, “You are absolutely stunning. Harold has no idea what he has.”
I told you Jonathan was an asshole. But he was a charming and very convincing asshole. And just a few days later, I broke up with Harold.
I wish I could say that I didn’t sleep with Jonathan. After all, the last thing I wanted was to bang my way up the corporate ladder. And I definitely didn’t want the reputation as the office bicycle.
But like I said, I was a young 22-year old. A naive 22-year old. And with Jonathan in front of me, I simply couldn’t resist.
Of course, we kept things secret. Not only would it have ruined my reputation in the company, but it would have also jeopardized Jonathan’s position with the board.
And Harold. Poor sweet Harold. Knowing that his ex-girlfriend and his boss were sleeping together would have killed him.
A few weeks turned into months, and before we knew it, Jonathan and I had been seeing each other for a year. Without a single person knowing. Not my parents. Not our CEO. And definitely not Harold.
We loved each other.
And then, on my 25th birthday, Jonathan proposed.
We could no longer keep our romance a secret. It was time to come clean. Jonathan pulled Harold aside and told him that he was engaged to his ex-girlfriend. Harold apparently took it well. He simply nodded and asked if he could leave the meeting. A few weeks later, Harold found another job and quit the company.
Finally, Jonathan and I could be together without worrying about Harold. We could get married and spend the rest of our days irrevocably in love with each other.
Or so I thought.
Because marrying Jonathan would be the worst mistake of my life.
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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.
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