the copywriter

December 2014

It’s my last night at DDB, it also happens to be the DDB Christmas party – perfect ending! It’s Mexican themed but I decide to only half do the Frida Kahlo look, I leave the mono-brow at home but pop a pretty pink flower crown on my head – it is my last night after all, I want to look good. Others, particularly the males, take it quite seriously – the office is rife with Mexican gansgtas.

One tequila, two tequila, three tequila…..blush. I’m standing at the bar ordering my next round of Margaritas and happen to turn to my left. My eyes lock with a pair already looking at me. I think I have seen him around a few times – the new, hipster looking guy with a man bun – but it’s quite hard to tell if it’s him with the ‘tattooed’ tear drop, bandana, oversized white tee and baggy denim jeans. Mexican gangsta is definitely not the hottest of looks on a guy. We keep staring at each other but eventually say hi and begin to talk. I’m not one for clichés or connections, so i’m not gong to start saying I feel like I’ve known him forever, I mean, he’s a complete stranger! But – it feels like I should have known him forever.

For the rest of the night we’re practically joined at the hip, our eyes barely leaving each others. Something about him fascinates me, the depth of his conversation and the way he is looking in to my eyes, bashfully but confidently, is intoxicating – and no, i’m not because I’m drunk off the Mexican madness being concocted at the work bar. We dance, we laugh, we escape up and down the lifts and roam around the other floors. He’s not being sleazy, he’s not being a flirt, I just feel so drawn in to him – and it seems like he feels exactly the same way. It’s so weird, I have literally just met this long haired Mexican wanna-be but there’s something about him that makes me not want to say goodnight or goodbye.

The end of the night arrives, he says he’s glad we work in the same agency because it means he is guaranteed to see me again, and not only again, but tomorrow. I explain that actually I’m moving to London in two weeks and tomorrow’s half day happens to be my last. He just looks at me. Doesn’t say much. I look down at my feet. The Mexican high we’ve been running around on has just started to come down. He promises me we’ll do coffee tomorrow at least – we’ll need it to help with our inevitable hangovers. Sure, I say – like he’s ever going to remember me in the morning – let alone that promise! We begin to walk our separate ways to get in taxi’s – he’s looking over his shoulder at me, me looking over mine at him. We turn to hop in to our respective pumpkins and next thing I know he runs back towards me, gently grabs my face and gives me a quick, but intense kiss. We look up at each other, smile and he says “see you for coffee tomorrow”.

The next morning I arrive at work for my last day a little worse for wear. It doesn’t bode well that I’m already fragile from the night before going in to an emotional day of goodbyes with my favourite ever colleagues. The girls are teasing me about being glued at the hip with the new copywriter all night – ha, this explains why the depth of his conversation was so mesmerising – he’s good with words. The girls are telling me they could feel the chemistry between us and I secretly agree there was something there but I laugh it off as a drunken illusion, after all it’s 9.30am and I’m leaving this office for good at 12.30pm – it’s not like I’m going to see him again.

I head down to HR for my exit interview, come back up to my desk an hour later and notice all the girls grinning at me with cheeky looks on their faces. I sit down at my desk and notice a medicinal style bottle by my keyboard. A bottle of the coolest, most sought after Cold Brew Coffee has been personally delivered to my desk. I look up at my friend across the desk – “you just had a visitor” she says with an infectious smile on her face.

The copywriter has followed through on the drunken promise. He remembered the coffee. He remembered me!

I don’t know anything more than this guys first name – how on earth do I thank him? I run back down to the HR director, explain the situation – she falls in love with the story and gives me his surname and email address. It’s 12.29pm – one minute before my the clock strikes twelve (thirty) on my time at DDB NZ – but I email him to say thank you anyway.

From there on out, my emails are cut off. Never to have send and receive clicked on again.

I’ll won’t hear from the copywriter or be able to see him again – I just met him and now I’m moving to the other side of the world. We’ve been in the same building for a few months yet of course it had to be last night that we met. Talk about unfair – talk about typical. What is it with me and distance putting a stop or hold on things?

Regardless of the frustrating situation – I’m happy to have met him. Plus, the Kokako Cold Brew Coffee sure did help my post party parking spot on struggle street.

It’s amazing how much of an impact someone can have on you in one night…

…even if it is one night only.

FullSizeRender-19

xo bambi

distanced hearts club ♥

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “the copywriter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s