This is a True Story ~ Operation Queen Bee

(The names have been changed to protect me)

Oh and none of the pics are of people in the real story.

 

I’ll tell you a cool short story and hopefully it will change your life.  I’ll keep the locations and characters fictitious because it’s an ugly story of a cruel person with beautiful looks that treated her ex like shit and was on the road to being an upper scale trophy wife/home wrecker.  If you (home wrecker) are reading this. (I can’t even remember your name) you know who you are.  BUT my plan worked.  Also remember, I’m an old fashion romancer.  I open doors for ladies.  I pull out their chairs in restaurants and I pick up the tab.

 

BREEZER: Definition – The person that never has to ask someone if they will go out on a date.  Only concern is which suitor to say yes to and which ones to turn down.

(Ace’s dictionary)

 

Years ago in a land before 9/11; I was at a new place of employment.  This place had one beautiful female who worked there three times a week.  I could tell she knew she was the queen of the office and it was common knowledge that she was having an affair with one of the big hitters that ran the place. We’ll call him Mr. Money bags.

 

When speaking to a male co-worker; he told me, ah forget about her, she’s having an affair with Mr. Money Bags.  You don’t stand a chance with her.  Now I’m no Rob Lowe but I took that as a challenge and I said: “Billy, I’ll bet you a six pack of Heinekens (It was that long ago) that in six months I’ll have her flirting/begging for ME.  He took the deal and six months later I took his beer.

So what was my plan?  How did I get the hottest chick (I only use the term “chick” because this article will be filed under “Hot chicks”)?  It was simple.

I ignored this person.

Not in a rude way, but in a “I don’t find you attractive” way. I could see that this person, in spite of being a breezer, was insecure.  “Look at me.  Look at how pretty I am” (I’m sorry, hot) Look at how hot I am”.  I would act like a gentleman.  I would joke with my close co-workers, but when she came around, I would pretend to be serious and professional.

In three months I was getting back rubs from this person and I use to joke with her about her sexually harassing me.  You have to make it clear that you’re heterosexual.  Otherwise, they will think that you must be gay not to be attracted to them.  (Especially since I worked around a lot of alternative lifestyle co-workers)  So it’s important that they hear you say something of this nature, (And I think this was the bomb that hit the target) I said: “His wife is Hot”.  I was referring to a famous person we had in the office.  I wish I could tell you who the person was because good lord was I putting moves on this guy’s wife before I knew it was his wife.  I think that pissed the queen bee off as well.

Three or four months of not engaging in conversation other than “How do you do” or “Have a nice weekend” I started to see her hanging around my door.  She was asking me questions like “What are you doing”? “What kind of project are you working on”? Then when she heard Mr. Money Bags walk into the building, she would quickly say: “Gotta go, nice talking to you”. (As if she got a certain excitement out of it)  I would reply: “Yeah, yeah, yeah”. After she left I would smile to myself.

It was almost like watching a trout bump the bait with his nose.

(Do fish have noses)?

Fast forward two months, her actions were becoming so pretentious and obvious that Billy paid up one morning.  I wasn’t even expecting it but he had seen the escapades.  He said I don’t know how you did it.  I replied, Billy, insecure people are never happy with what they have.  They always want what they can’t have.  If you’re used to getting your way and someone ignores you, deep inside, your ego is saying: “But how come this person doesn’t want me”?  It had gotten so obvious that Mr. Money Bags didn’t want me around.  He saw me as a threat to his “fun on the side”. (And I was single).

Now for the ugly part. I didn’t know it, but I knew her ex-husband.  I didn’t know it until I had been playing this game for about 4 months.  But her husband had been a friend of mine from my military days.  He was a good looking guy but he was a NICE guy.  I can’t help but think that his niceness repulsed this person.  It’s not uncommon for breezers to resent people that respect them.  But this repulsed me quite a bit.  Any thoughts of wanting to do anything outside of the office with this female made my stomach hurt.  Mainly because I could see myself as her ex-husband.

 

About 8 months into operation Queen Bee, we contracted with a female Ms. Money bags/Queen bee.  She was married and I respected that, but I would flirt sarcastically with her and she would flirt back.  This really lit the fuse with the Home wrecking Queen Bee so much that she tried to get me fired. I think they refer to this as the: “If I can’t have you, nobody can” mentality.  So the office had turned into one huge social battlefield.

 

So what’s the moral of this sad story? 

Sometimes experience can save you from becoming someone’s disposable partner.  Some people are so insecure even when it seems they have everything going for them.  But as Solomon said in Ecclesiastes: “It’s better to appreciate what you have than to worry about that which you don’t”.  Just look around at how many people aren’t happy unless they have someone else to worry about.  (As in the Queen Bee).  This defines Groucho Marx’s joke when he said: “I would never want to be a member of a club that would have me as a member”.

In Closing

Sadly, an old friend who use to confide everything in me was cheating on his wife.  They were both my friends.  After their divorce, the wife stopped by my house after I had gotten married and said: “He was much happier and fun to be around when he had a girlfriend on the side”.  But little did he realize how his actions had a chain reaction of unintended consequences.  That’s the problem of thinking you can have your cake and eat it too.  People are not cars you can trade in for the “upgraded” new model.  Personally, I love my 30 year old Porsche and would never sell it for a brand new McLaren.

 

Life is not a beauty contest and not all beauty is physical.