Two Interns in the City
I sat at my desk, taking a break from my emails as fellow-PR-intern, Stella stopped by my cubicle. She took a seat on a chair in my fortress of a work space and the more she continued to talk to me, the more I continued to see what a hot mess she really was. Stella is a good six inches shorter than me, and definitely has the punch of a little person. She’s spunky (one of the reasons why I like her) and her motherly Jewish-ness has proven to be something I enjoy very much.
“I need to gain control of my life. I’m falling apart,” Stella cried in bewilderment. “And my toenail is falling off…it hurts so bad.”
OH HEAVENS. This girl was somethin’ else. But truthfully, I clung to her as someone who made me feel like I could belong at this internship after all. Sure, she was probably smarter than me (in some ways) but there was one thing I knew for certain: She was a hot mess. And so was I. In an office filled with interns who look like they commute from Stepford and talk like they work for the Obama Administration, my weariness faded as I first laid eyes upon pretty little Stella.
One day, as she and I worked furiously on a special project for our boss, Marianne, Stella had decided she would set me up with one of her friends.
“You’ll LOVE Jason. He’s so funny. He’s perfect for you.” Stella said.
Normally, I would be thinking, “Bitch please, just cause I’m gay, don’t mean I like everybody else who is.”
But that wasn’t the case. Stella had multiple gay single friends, but chose one specifically for me. That’s when I knew she wasn’t a basic bitch. She was real and she was ’bout to set me up with a hot piece of ass. (DISCLAIMER: SHE NEVER DID THOUGH, AND THIS TOOK PLACE FOUR WEEKS AGO, SO STELLA IF YOU’RE READING THIS, WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO JASON. K THANKS, BYE).
The only thing that made me sad about Stella, is that she had a hard time believing in herself. I’m good at reading people’s energies, it’s sort of a gift, and I knew Stella was no loser. But here’s the thing though: I was having a hard time believing in myself too.
We were both crazy Jewish mums who cared too way too much.
One night, over drinks with co-workers, Stella and I had a heart to heart. Drunk and crying like two hoes in the background of any club scene of a movie, we poured our hearts out to each other. And after every confession, we understood each other a little more.
“You’re on FYAHHHH, girl!” I said to Stella, as I took another sip of my Greyhound. There was so much love at that moment. As we showered each other with compliments and good graces.
“You’re such a good person!” She said.
“You deserve to have it all, boo!” I replied.
“We really ARE on fire!” Stella said in jubilee.
This love fest was getting a little out of hand. But at least we understood each other.
A few weeks later, I was going through a friend break-up. I f**ked up big time and left a friend in the dust as I scrambled to put together all the pieces again. Not for my benefit, but for my friend’s benefit. And the irony is the reason why it all fell apart in the first place is because I tried so hard to make everyone happy and see that their pieces didn’t fall apart. In my mind, I see fit for the job but in reality no one is, and no one should be.
I went to Stella with my problem, and vented to her all my wrong doings and f**k ups. She then said something to me that made me realize for the first time in my life, what my problem truly is.
“You care too much,” Stella said. “Your greatest strength and your biggest downfall is that you care too much.”
And at that moment it was clear. Stella was speaking from experience.
to be continued…