11 Jun 2008 ›  2:33pm

Just back—heart racing. Details to follow.

At about noon, Mister Man (office crush extraordinaire) stuck his head into my office and said (super casually), “hey do you want to sneak out for lunch?” And I was all, “absolutely!” (Immediately cursing myself for the over-eager response).

He: “Cool, meet in the lobby in 30?”

Me: “Sounds good” (sounding marginally less creepily psyched).

Cut to—out on the street—walking/talking. He’s all excited about this amazing factory in India he found where the women handcraft everything blah, blah, blah and it’s like a hippy-commune paradise or something (but with bindis). Details shmetails, I was looking at this hair. Yes, that’s right… while he talked about human rights and fair trade, I was wondering “What kind of magical product does he use? Is it a mousse? Is it a gel? Must… know… product.” Does that make me officially, a shallow a-hole? Hush your mouth! It was a rhetorical question.

Anyway, next thing I knew, we were stepping into the Ritz–effen-Carlton, at which point I promptly broke into a cold sweat. I thought I was going to have a heart attack, until I saw that we were going to BLT Market and not the front desk. BLT was packed but we got a table right away. It was noisy and super well lit—not at all the setting for a clandestine tryst so I relaxed a bit. We ate (my salad was divinely inspired, but I digress). The rest is a bit of a blur. All I could think about was the fact that above us were countless luxury hotel rooms, and that if we wanted to—we could be in one less than five. Then, I wondered, how did we get a seated so fast? Did he make a frigging reservation? Ohmigod, did he plan this? Is he busting a move???
Punchline? Nothing happened. So why do I feel like something major just went down?