Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Don't Ever Fuck Your Boss

Don't Ever Fuck Your Boss  

Dear Audrey,

What is your opinion on office romance? A month ago, the partner overseeing my project (my boss) came to a routine client meeting. She was wearing a summer dress — this is an important part of the story because during the meeting I looked over and accidentally took a peek. Let it be known that summer dresses are cut in a way that a side view shows everything on top. Normally, I would have quickly looked away, but my eyes stayed a millisecond too long. I know that she knows I was looking, because she moved her hand up to her neck to block the opening. I promptly looked away.

Since that time, we have been exchanging friendly banter, which I would definitely construe as flirting. I have a lot of respect for her, and she is attractive. How do you ask your boss out? Do I wait for her to ask me out? Or do I just wait until the holiday party and hope we both get drunk?

Ok friend, even though this isn’t really my beat since that is clearly a relationship question and not a sex question, I’ll make an exception because DON’T FUCK YOUR BOSS EVER. Ever ever ever ever. Seriously, don’t fuck your boss. I know you’re going to anyway, if you get the chance, but it’s such a terrible idea. And I know someone’s going to write in and be like “I fucked my boss and we just celebrated our 500th wedding anniversary surrounded by our 15,000 beloved children, so there,” to which I can only say shut up boss-fucker, nobody cares what you think.

Do I even need to explain why this is such a bad idea? If for whatever reason she at some point becomes not your boss — even if she’s still higher up in the company or something but just isn’t your direct boss — go ahead, ask her out politely and then fuck her till you’re out of fucking, but until that time, please don’t fuck your boss. Also, a little bonus advice for you gents out there: generally, looking down a lady’s shirt is not considered flirting. It is considered being a creep.

PS: Don’t fuck your boss.

Dear Audrey, 

I, like many non-old, non-fat, non-weird women, sometimes wear Spanx under my clothes. Which I am at peace with. But if I go home with a dude, it’s like we’re making out and all of a sudden I have to wrestle off full-body support hose. Awkward! What’s my best option here?

Kinda makes you wish people still did that whole “Let me slip into something more… comfortable” thing, eh? Ladytron, I feel your pain. There are some outfits that are greatly improved by a really fugly foundation garment. You can wear that shit and still be a feminist, is what I’ve decided. But there is no way to be slinky about getting those fuckers off. The way I see it, you’ve got three options: 1. When you get to the makeout place, go to the bathroom and take it off, stuff it in a purse or something. 2. Just live with having to spastically yank it off, and hope that the dude is hip/drunk enough not to make fun of you. 3. Fuck through that weird crotch hole that they leave in the bottom of the Spanx — as though anyone is going to use that to pee, c’mon guys. There’s not really an ideal solution, I don’t think. But I will use this opportunity to raise awareness: dudes, and ladies who don’t wear those things, it is officially no longer weird or sad to wear them. Oprah and Jessica Alba said so, and also, fuck you, some people are lumpier than others. You’re welcome.

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