Category: Story Time

It was funny, really. I’d ditched the dating apps, my confidence was up the whooha, and my calendar was oozing with dates. I was still repeating my affirmation — I am loved and highly desirable — and after weeks of robotic chanting, I actually believed it.

Now, here’s the thing: I’m not the most conventionally attractive person. I’d call myself average. I’ve always been heavier, with a gap between my front teeth. But I have killer amber eyes, the kind people remember. I’ve been told I have perfect lips, with a defined cupid’s bow. Still, I’ve always thought of myself as the girl next door — kind, dependable, okay to look at, but often passed by at first.

Until, of course, it hits them like lightning and they realize they can’t live without me. That’s my long game. I play it well. I love the chase.

And yet, that little midnight note kept echoing in my head: Live your best life, like you don’t care when he arrives. This party is just getting started.

The Eyeline

So there I am, sitting at my desk, going about my business. As I’ve mentioned, our office is open concept — long rows anchored by a wall of windows. Each row has two desks side-by-side. I’m by my window; The Man in a Suit is at the end of his row, across from mine, right by the walkway.

And for reasons I can only chalk up to fate, our workstations are perfectly aligned. No obstacles. Just a straight, unobstructed eyeline.

And wow… it would take my breath away when I looked up and felt that prickle — the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Then bam — eye contact.

What shocked me was that he didn’t even try to hide it. He just stared.

IGNORE! IGNORE! IGNORE! Warning, Will Robinson.

The Fort

Over the next week, it got harder not to notice him. He was constantly looking at me. I’d blush, then force myself to act cool. The Man in a Suit was off-limits anyway.

One morning, I had a brilliant idea. We’d just gotten monitor risers in. I swiped two and built myself a little fort, completely blocking our view of each other. Whew. Safe.

But my reprieve was short-lived. I’d forgotten one crucial factor: our desks had hydraulics.

That buzz in the distance… and then his desk rose higher than my fort could defend. And that smirk. Direct hit. Alarms going off. Retreat or surrender.

And for reasons I’ll never understand, this man chose to stand for eight hours a day. So what was a girl to do but stand her happy ass up too?

The Crack in the Mask

Almost quitting time, and finally we weren’t slammed. Playful banter filled the air. Then one of my favorite topics floated through the crowd: zodiac signs.

Here’s where it got woo-woo. I knew without a doubt what The Man in a Suit’s sign was — and exactly why he fit it so well. Thing was, before that moment, I knew nothing about this zodiac. But I could tell by every ounce of his being that I’d nailed it.

I don’t think anyone had ever summed him up like I had. Tally for me.

Problem was, my mask cracked. He now knew I’d noticed him — more than I’d let on.

The Next Day

The day started like any other. I meditated on my way to work, journaled, and lived my best life. Parties, dates, dinners, hockey games, beach trips, road trips — I was busy, magnetic, and too occupied to feel lonely.

My bestie at work sat across from me, and we’d chat during downtime. I loved watching the rain run down my window. On breaks, I’d leave the office — I have a nasty habit I’m trying to quit (future blog post material). I’m one of the lucky few who park on-site, so I’d escape to my car.

I’d even picked up a few admirers from neighboring offices. So I was surprised when a colleague stopped me and whispered, “The Man in a Suit keeps asking where you go on your breaks. Should I tell him?”

Of course, my answer was no. IGNORE. IGNORE. IGNORE.

The Seat War

When I came back, chaos had erupted. My colleagues were in a heated debate about my bestie changing desks. She was refusing. The Man in a Suit was relentless.

At first, I stayed out of it, assuming it was a ploy to get my attention. But it escalated — other coworkers started volunteering to take the seat across from me. One wanted to block him out of spite. Another thought I needed “protection” and offered himself (he’s married). Another just liked egging him on.

It got so out of hand that the entire office was involved, shouting suggestions, until our VP told everyone to settle down. No one would be moving.

I left that night emotionally exhausted. Ignoring wasn’t working.

Checkmate

I went to bed confident my bestie had won the battle.

Not.

The next morning, there he was — sitting across from me. Leaning back in his chair, facing the door, smirk wide enough to rival the Nile. He’d won. Check. Check. Check.

Now there was no way to ignore him. Worst of all, he knew it.

I felt like a cornered gazelle waiting for the wolf to pounce. But would he?

I walked to my desk, pretending not to care, even though he’d stopped me dead in my tracks. He watched me get settled, leaning closer and closer, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Before I could speak, my bestie walked in and noticed her old desk was now his. Her words cut like a knife.

His response?

“I need a window seat. I have to be able to look outside and I need the ventilation.”

Sure, it sounded reasonable — except he’d moved her to an open window seat two rows back.

My only reply: “Ventilation, huh?”

He didn’t even try to convince me otherwise. Just sat back, looking like a tall glass of iced coffee on a hot summer day. Sweet, but a little bitter.

Fuck.

IGNORE. IGNORE. IGNORE.

But how?

Wha wha… so that lawyer I mentioned? Yeah. Sadly, boring AF.
I could hardly wait to leave after a respectable amount of time had passed — you know, just long enough to avoid looking like I’d faked a sudden “emergency” text from a friend.

By Friday night, I was sprawled in bed, MACK List held above my head like it was the Rosetta Stone of my love life. I stared at it, wondering where he was. What was he doing? Who was he with?

Oof. Don’t think too hard about that one.

It’s wild how jelly I felt at the mere thought of him being out there in the world, living his best life without me. Twenty-two affirmations later — all about how he only wanted me and I was the best option for him — I finally admitted it: I was being such a girl about this.

The Midnight Note

As I drifted off to sleep, it wasn’t the lawyer or even Mr. “I Am Your MACK” on my mind. Nope. It was The Man in a Suit — those bright red cheeks, that look of determination, and that strong jawline. Get. Outta. Here.

Apparently, at some point during the night, I woke up and scribbled a note to myself. I found it the next morning on my nightstand. It read:

Live your best life, like you don’t care when he arrives. This party is just getting started.

“Wicked,” I said out loud, tossing the paper onto my bed before getting ready for a beach day with my bestie.

Beach Talk & Rules

Believe me, The Man in a Suit dominated our conversation that day. The way he’d thrown himself across desks just to say hi? The blush? The jawline? Yeah, we dissected it all.

Only problem? I had a rule.

A rule so firm I’d never once considered breaking it since the day I made it:

I don’t date coworkers.

Monday Resolve

By Monday morning, I had my game plan: ignore, ignore, ignore.
I’d walk in, do my job, and pretend The Man in a Suit was just another guy in the office.

But here’s the thing about manifestation — when the universe wants to stir the pot, it doesn’t care about your rules.

And The Man in a Suit?

Let’s just say… ignoring him was never going to be that easy.

Teaser: Part 5: The moment he made it impossible to stick to my rule — and how the window came into play.

Even now, thinking back to The Boardwalk Serenader brings a smile to my face. We had so many fun dates — the kind that make you feel like you’re living inside a movie montage. I was genuinely sad when he left to pursue his master’s degree in another state… many states away from me.

We’d grown close, but we never crossed into “officially an item” territory. Still, with his romantic flair and my need for adventure (and apparently closure), we decided to give ourselves one final date — and we got to pick how it ended.

We went to dinner, shared some tears, an epic going-away gift from me, and then… an impromptu skinny dip in the Columbia River. It was invigorating — the kind of moment that burns itself into your memory, equal parts wild and freeing.

The Self-Proclaimed MACK

Then there was Mr. I Am Your MACK. Perhaps I fell too quickly. Perhaps I got a little too attached. But none of that matters when someone’s still in love with an ex — and I believe in karma.

Spoiler alert, ironically though he would circle back.

Enter: THE MAN IN A SUIT

But let’s get back to The Man in a Suit.

It’s funny how life works. I had trained this man once upon a time, yet I honestly couldn’t remember it — nor could I place him. Frankly, he had seemed completely uninteresting and unremarkable back then.

Was he smart? Yes.
Talented in his line of work? Absolutely.
Could I tell you what he looked like? Nope.
Hair color? Not a clue.

And yet… there he was.

I’d place him around 5’11” to 6’, sprawled across his desk and our colleagues’, heading into the third colleague’s territory — his hand outstretched toward me.

The Scene

Now, I was looking mighty fine that morning. Heels in hand. Half a something-or-other hanging from my mouth (my attempt at breakfast). AirPods in.

That evening, I had a date lined up with an attorney — thank you, divorce proceedings — and I felt very much like I understood the assignment.

One of my colleagues grabbed my arm and nodded toward The Man in a Suit.

I spun around, shocked to see that he had almost managed to reach me, even though I was on the other side of the desks, headed toward my own by the window. (The window is important — we’ll get to that later.)

Removing my AirPods, I asked something dumb, like, “Did you need something?”

A minute too late, he recoiled and returned to a standing position. I swear his face was as red as a tomato.

“No, I just wanted to say hi.”

Y’all… this man had thrown himself across desks just to say hi.

I knew I had to play it cool. But believe me, I was swooning inside.

“Hi,” I replied, spinning back around to take my seat as my colleagues grumbled and righted their desks.

P.S. The Man in a Suit plays a major role over the next few segments… and the next time he made a move? Let’s just say the window came into play.

So there I was, staring at this man — the one who had just proclaimed, with the conviction of a preacher on Sunday morning, that he was my MACK.

Mind you, I had never told him about the MACK List. Not once. Not even a hint. And yet here he was, looking me dead in the eye, declaring it like he’d just been handed a divine memo.

I laughed. Not because I didn’t believe him — oh no, I did — but because the whole thing felt like the universe was winking at me. You know that feeling when life gets so on-the-nose it’s almost cliché? Yeah. That.

The Universe Has a Sense of Humor

Here’s the thing about manifestation: sometimes it delivers exactly what you asked for… but with a twist. And sometimes that twist is wearing cologne you recognize from 2009 and has a habit of texting you at 11:47 p.m.

The days after his declaration were a blur of long conversations, inside jokes, and that electric “what if” energy. We had the kind of connection where we could communicate through glances — and oh man, we were so sexually charged that everyone at the party noticed. It was the kind of chemistry you can’t fake, the kind that makes people whisper and nudge each other when you walk by.

The MACK Effect in Full Swing

Meanwhile, the MACK List magic was still working overtime. It was like I’d flipped some cosmic “open for business” sign. Everywhere I went, people were suddenly… interested.

The barista at my coffee shop started giving me extra shots “just because.” A stranger at the grocery store complimented my aura (yes, my aura). Even my neighbor — who had previously only spoken to me about recycling bins — started lingering in conversation.

It was flattering. It was fun. And it was also a little overwhelming.

The Plot Thickens

Back to Mr. “I Am Your MACK.” We had this undeniable pull — the kind that makes you forget to check your phone, lose track of time, and start mentally redecorating your living room to fit another person’s taste.

But here’s the thing about pull: it can be magnetic… or it can be a riptide. And I was starting to wonder which one I was in.

Because while he was saying all the right things, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe wasn’t done with this little experiment. That maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the final delivery… but a test shipment.

And then…

THE MAN IN A SUIT walked in.

Tall. Dark. Handsome. Young — definitely younger than me — and impulsive in a way that made the air shift the second he entered the room. And my oh my, did he have a way of getting my attention.

And that… is where we’ll pick up in Part 3.

There I was — going through hell, waiting for my long-awaited divorce to be finalized. Feeling free, yet… a little terrified. I knew that once this chapter slammed shut, I’d be ready to start looking for the one.

You know — the real one.
Not the one I married, had a child with, and built a life with. Nope. That one was currently being filed under “Ex-Husband.” I’m talking about the actual one. My better half.

Although, let’s be clear — I’ve since learned not to call anyone my “better half.” I am already whole. Complete. A full set. While my “one” will ideally feel like we’re cut from the same cloth, odds are we’re not identical swatches. (Still, I can’t lie — the whole twin flame thing? It’s got a gravitational pull I can’t quite shake.)

The truth? I had no idea what I was looking for.
What I did know was that I was lonely.
Yes, yes — I know. Not the ideal mindset for dating. But those lessons? They came later.

The Night It All Started

One night, I was feeling pumped. I wanted to go out, paint the town red, maybe even magenta. But more than that, I wanted the thrill of being in love. Yup — hopeless romantic, table for one.

A few nights earlier, I’d done a deep meditation to “meet your soulmate in the 4D.” Spoiler alert: it worked. Sort of. I didn’t see him — instead, I got an impression. And a very clear takeaway: a raven laughing at me.

My spirit animal. The trickster. The shapeshifter.
So no, I wasn’t shocked that I couldn’t see him. It felt like he was being hidden from me — as if the timing just wasn’t right.

Enter: The MACK List

Feeling energized, I grabbed a piece of paper — not just any paper, but the good stuff. Heavy card stock. The kind that feels like it could hold the weight of your dreams.

I thought about who this man was. What traits did I want? My pen practically danced across the page:

M – Mature
A – Affectionate
C – Caring
K – Kind

From there, it spiderwebbed into thought bubbles full of characteristics. I still didn’t know what he looked like, but I knew I’d know him when I met him.

It didn’t take long for my friends to dub it The MACK List. And yes, they made fun of me — rightfully so.

The Affirmation That Changed Everything

I started reciting this daily:

“Everyone who meets me absolutely falls in love with me. I am extremely attractive and desired. No one can help but fall in love with me.”

Caution: That affirmation works. Not for the faint of heart.

Within weeks, something wild happened. I’d been sitting with my MACK List, visualizing this man, daydreaming about our conversations. Then I got this strong feeling: He’s on his way.

So strong, in fact, that I deleted my dating apps. The underlying message was clear: Do nothing.

The Floodgates Open

Over the next two weeks, a parade of exes came out of the woodwork. Apparently, word had gotten out that I was no longer married, and suddenly everyone wanted to toss their hat in the ring.

I’d never thought of myself as “the one who got away,” but here I was — apparently a heartbreaker.

Some were easy to dismiss. Others… harder. A few even warranted a revisit. But it didn’t take long to remember why it hadn’t worked out before.

The upside? Closure. And let me tell you — closure is like an energetic cleanse. Almost… well, let’s just say it’s euphoric.

The Fresh Start

Once I realized this wasn’t about rekindling old flames, I knew: My MACK wasn’t in my past. He was in my future.

And wow. The next three men I dated? They blew my mind. Each one hit at least 90% of the MACK List.

One serenaded me on the boardwalk at night, against the Columbia River, city lights reflecting in the water. He whispered his song into my ear as he held me close. So romantic I could’ve melted into the pavement.

Another — part of a friend group — looked me dead in the eye and proclaimed, with absolute conviction, that he was my MACK. I hadn’t said a word about the list. The passion in his voice caught me off guard. And the thing is…

I believed him.

But here’s the thing about believing someone is your MACK… sometimes, the universe has a plot twist you never saw coming.