Plaid

I saw R today for the first time out of his Officeworks uniform. As in, in the nude.

I played you. I did not see him in the nude. And that may actually be good because I imagine he's kind of pasty and pudgy underneath that blue polo t-shirt.

No, I saw him in his civvies. He came in for 15 minutes to help with some sort of technological difficulties (I know; is there anything more divine than a man who is good with his hands/knowledgeable/a pro at something?). I didn't see him come in but I saw him come out (that's what she said).

I saw that spiky black hair from over the various USBs and digital cameras. Bobbing as he walked and talked with his bff, K. At first, I didn't realize it was him as he was out of uniform. And when I did realize it was him, I had to stop myself from looking as I was overwhelmed by my sexual desire.

That is a lie. I stopped myself from looking because there is no thought more horrifying for me than R finding out I like him (this much). Which is stupid. As adults, we're supposed to tell fellow adults when we may have feelings for them. At least, that's what television tells me.

As he came closer, I finally looked up. We smiled. I asked him what he was doing there. He explained, said his goodbyes and left.

I'm sure you are fascinated to know what he was wearing (/sarcasm). Even if you're not, hear me out because I was incredibly fascinated.

For the last 6-7 months I have worked at Officeworks, I have often wondered what R's casual wear is like. I had my fears that it would be sloppy polo t-shirts that strain across his belly. Or seriously derro, $5 K-mart t-shirts paired with hand-me-down jeans (I still love you, K-mart).

Friends, I was pleasantly surprised.

From memory, he was wearing dark, reasonably fitted jeans, a black sweater thing (my words do not convey my meaning. Rest assured, it was reasonably attractive) and, oh my. I am now reaching the best part... A plaid shirt.

A PLAID FUCKING SHIRT.

You know of my feelings towards plaid, right? Plaid... See, my attraction to a man increases 10 fold if he is wearing plaid. You can imagine, it took a lot of self-control to not down R right then and there like a lioness takes down her pray in the African savannah.

To be fair, it wasn't my favourite kind of plaid (red). It was green and a light green at that. But still plaid. And plaid, my friends, is the world's best pattern.

For my parting words, I must note that his hair was tremendous today as well. It was incredibly voluminous and spiky and thick and amazing. It was, dare I say it, comparable to one Andrew Garfield (but in a half-Asiany way).

J