
Content warning: This post contains mentions of domestic violence and may be triggering to some readers.
My friends were shocked — to say the least — when I finally told them about this story. They said things like “But you’re so powerful and independent” and “I see you as such a feminist though.” But how this story played out wasn’t because of my stand on specific issues; it was a deep void of self-worth that I didn’t know I lacked.
Back in 2016, I was freshly back in the United States, experiencing reverse culture shock and overwhelming stress to find my first career job. I spent the past two years living around the world. I was a free-spirited, ambitious college student and figured out ways to make money while I lived in four different countries.
Now that I was back in America, I began my job search. I landed a job doing marketing for a health food snack company in Santa Monica. The team was small, practically non-existent. I was the third hire. It was me, the CEO, and a sales guy we’ll call Smith.
Due to the small nature of our company, Smith and I quickly became close and eventually friends, even hanging out outside of work. Smith was 12 years my senior. He had a tall, semi-in-shape-dad bod physique with grey hairs speckled throughout his beard. Smith exuded confidence but almost in an egotistical way. That kind of demeanour bodes well for sales though.
I only lasted at this job for seven months before the position started to change to e-commerce and I quickly realised that the lack of management wasn’t well-suited for my entry-level experience. By the time I made this decision, Smith and I were basically best friends; we got along exceptionally.
Perhaps the sparks were already flying a little at this point. It’s all a bit jumbled in my head as to what point exactly we started to become more than friends. One thing is for sure though, it was after I left the company. This is not to save anyone’s asses — neither of us works there anymore anyways.
I do, however, remember the point at which I nervously told Smith I wanted him to be my boyfriend. He was surprised, replying in a coy manner with, “Me? Are you sure?” The rest was history.
Since we built our relationship off of a solid friendship, it was comfortable being around Smith. His mature manner and a sense of purpose was sexy to me, and something that the younger men I had always chose to date lacked. We ended up moving in together; it was quick but quick seems to be my choice of pace with relationships.
Top Comments
“Balling,” often colloquially spoken and written as “ballin',” basically means “awesome,” or, in some cases, “talented” or “rich.” “Bawling” is the correct synonym of “sobbing,” “crying,” etc., as in, “She was bawling like a baby.” “She was balling like a baby” has a completely different and quite nonsensical meaning”
And at the end... "Smith and I's story".
It's an appallingly written story overall.