In other news...

So, F's birthday was on Saturday -- so I sent him a text message wishing him a happy birthday; he responded "it's nice to know someone gives a shit." Ouch.

C & I got him a great big beautiful cake from the Cupcake Cafe yesterday, and carried it into his office with flaming candles and loud, albeit off-tune singing. It's the spirit that counts, right? If you could have seen the look of delight on his face... It was really quite touching. It made the trip from 18th Street on the subway with this 20-pound cake worthwhile! I'd swear he even teared up a little.

I gave him a card. I won't go into the details of everything I wrote, but it was enough to spur him to call me later and thank me, telling me how meaningful and important my words are to him.

He made mention of wanting to take me out to mark the occasion of both our birthdays -- after all, wasn't it our birthdays that started this whole thing? I'm suddenly feeling verrrry carnivorous, with a craving for a juicy Peter Luger steak. The man does love his Luger's. Who am I to turn it down? We couldn't schedule because at that moment C walked in, so I had to pretend that she doesn't know anything and change the subject.

You know, if he thinks no one knows, then he must also think that everyone around him is just blind. C has caught him checking out my ass on a number of occasions, and his old pressman P once caught him putting his hand up my skirt.

Well, if he needs to tell himself that he has a secret, then I guess we'll just have to let him go on thinking that. Ignorance is bliss, after all.