Remember anything before Wednesday? I don’t have most of them, but I do have a vague memory: photos of One throbbing heart direction Harry Styles i actor / director Olivia Wilde holding hands at the quarantine wedding of Jeff Azoff, manager of Styles, who appeared Monday provoking dating rumors. She and her fiancé Jason Sudeikis ended their seven-year engagement in early 2020, and over the past few months, Styles and Wilde have been working together on the set of his next film, Don’t worry, darling. Her association makes sense, though, if they met at work, she was technically their boss.
Anyway, this made me think about the nature of romances in the workplace, which are usually unadvisable, but also get into difficult human resource territory unless you’re an actor. I do not to mean unethical tales of your shitty boss flirting with you while he was an intern; all that is achieved mutually. Personally, I’ve never had one, because I think co-workers are rude, but if my co-worker were Harry Styles, I would change my tune.
Tduring your week, I want to listen to all the time you connected with a partner: did you meet the significant other at work? Did you wait until you got a new gig to make a move? Was connecting with another summer camp counselor the worst decision you made in your high school sophomore year? Let us know in the comments below.
Before all this, let’s take a look at last week’s winners (last year!): These are your most magical New Year’s stories:
FilthyHarry, you absolutely win, quina coi !!!!!!!!!:
When I was little, I don’t remember the exact year (but I remember we were watching Solid Gold as the New Year’s program, so 80-82?) And we were at a party to our apt neighbors in our building.
Around midnight, Harper Lee (who lived in our building) showed up at the front door of the apartment and exclaimed with his exquisite shooter, if we didn’t keep him down, he would buy the building and make us throw.
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BrianGriffin believes “reliable” is just a state of mind, if you are happy, we are happy:
A few years ago in New York, my wife and I decided to quit. The best resolution I have ever made, and almost the only one that has ever stayed.
ninjagin, this is fantastic:
My best NYE was when I was 19, the first new year after I left home … about 35 years ago, let’s say. I lived in a downtown room, did community theater, wrote and spent time with poets, artists and actors and musicians in my cow town … it was a small but comfortable scene. You’ll meet almost anyone you know at almost every concert, gallery show, reading or anything. I was selling clothes at the time, working as a haberdashery, so I had a good dress to wear. I was invited to the party that went through a couple of adjoining suites in a hotel on my old treadmill. I knew the area well, I took a bus, I arrived more or less on time as things were rolling.
I’m not going to go into details, but it was complete nonsense. An artist friend there gave it to me [redacted] and he had never had it, but it was really fantastic. There was dancing and drinking, great philosophical conversations and smoking and filling mine [redacted] full of [redacted] and just hang out with lots of young and wild sexy creatives until the wee hours of the morning. We played with lasers (which were expensive, big and bulky back then, remember LazerFloyd or Lazerium?) And we painted murals with bright paints and danced and sang and made wild artwork with wax and cardboard and bright paints. I had a big kiss at midnight from someone. It was like a wrap party without the underlying sadness, but it was turned around like it could be if I had the wrap party at the start of the race? … where were all the good things still missing? Then, predictably, most everyone started wasting themselves in an hour or so and I knew it was time to go. I took a taxi that the city had sponsored for free.
I got home a couple of hours before dawn and slept most of the next day. It was fine. No one to bite me about the delay I had gone through, no one to eat a finger for partying and enjoying with my friends, no one to make me feel sorry for smoking, drinking and stuffing myself [redacted] full of [redacted]. I’ve never felt so free, wild, and happy in my own skin as I was that night … and it looked like a million dollars. I do not regret anything.
Fast forward to the present and I am no longer young or sexy, my knees and feet hurt from dancing and I no longer dress on any level … not even in the same building. A single cigarette will hit me for days after and I practically no longer drink. On school nights I’m in bed at 10. Still, I know how to party like it’s 1985, damn it, even though I wouldn’t want to anymore. Oh, to be young, wild and free, when a new year meant a whole universe of change, creativity and opportunity. It was amazing and I was in the middle and I will never forget it.
chainsaws, of course:
I won a very lucky concert during the 99/00 holiday in London. It was spectacular. Unfortunately, I stepped on Christmas Eve and broke my two front teeth (I even found the “All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth” fun). On New Year’s Eve, a guy I met on the flight prepared me with his dentist to do a free repair (basically a piece of gray plastic that melted down to the stumps left in my mouth). So I almost had teeth! I was in London! I partyed outside of Big Ben. I met an Irish arborist and stood out! I was a star with false teeth!
I stopped nine years later. It cannot be overcome.
Samantha Stevens, excuse me:
I went to a party with my boyfriend in a building that rented a rehearsal room. As usual, as soon as we got there, my boyfriend went out to the bar and I didn’t see him again. I ended up spending most of the party in a big chair drinking Haitian rum with a guy who had a big crush (who was also Madonna’s boyfriend). Yes, it was a few years ago.
Relieve the nightmare in the following comments.