The Matchmaker (revised)

[CalebPerry]

The Matchmaker (a bit more concise, but not much)

My co-worker wants to be a match-maker.
What she gets from it, I don’t know,
some masturbatory delight.
She has a gay friend she wants me to meet.
I say no, and then no again, and then again
and again and again when she won’t shut up.
I know how these things work. He’ll see me,
feel nothing, and give me a gratuitous
rejection for no other reason
than to give this daft woman
the little social orgasm she seeks.

Despite saying no, there he is the next day,
working as a temp in my department!
How did she manage that?
He is attractive — very much so to me —
and I am lonely, lonely and free.
His pants bulge reveals what I will never see.
Having been briefed on how handsome I am,
he wears a sullen face, the same face I wear
at 2 a.m. when the bar closes Sunday morn.
One look was all it took, and now we must
work together all day. At night I limp home,
serenity flown, my head filled with murder.

=================================

The Matchmaker (version 1)

My co-worker wants to be my match-maker.
What she gets from it, I don’t know,
some masturbatory delight, some twisted sense
of accomplishment. She doesn't understand
how the human sexual dance works, or why it fails.
She has a gay friend she wants me to meet.
I say no, and then say no again, and then again
and again and again when she won’t shut up.
I know how these things work. I am not attractive
to most men. He will see me, show no interest,
and I will suffer a gratuitous rejection
for no other reason than to give this daft
woman the little social orgasm she seeks.

And there he is, the next day, working as a temp
in my department! He does the same work I do,
who knew? He is handsome — very much so to me —
and I am lonely, of course, and free. His pants bulge,
revealing what I’ll never see. Having been briefed
on how handsome I am, and having seen me before
I saw him, he wears the face of disappointment,
the same face I wear at two a.m. when the bar
closes Sunday morn. One look was all it took. And now
we must work together all day. At six I limp home,
depressed, serenity flown, my head filled with murder.

☙

Just written from an experience I had forty years ago.

[jisbell00]

Hi Caleb,

Yes, I think this does its job. I especially like the last line, and also this: "the same face I wear at two a.m."

I wondre if you need this much space for the tale to be told?

Cheers,
John

[CalebPerry]

Thank you, John.

I tried cutting it down but decided that the story was in the details. I'll look at it again.