Dear Joely: Is He Dating Half the Office?

When a brilliant first date suddenly comes with an unexpected colleague.

New
here?

Dear Joely,

I'm 24 and work in admin for a fairly big furniture and homeware company — nice office, about 35 of us, mostly women, and we all rub along really well together. The warehouse side has more men, and we cross paths at lunch and in the canteen.

There's a floor manager there — I'll call him Norry — who everyone loves. Friendly, always up for a quick chat, and (I'll admit it) properly fanciable and funny with it. He always has me in stitches.

A couple of weeks ago he asked me for a drink and I said yes before he'd even finished the sentence. We had a brilliant night — proper flirty, talking rubbish till late, and he said a few things that made me feel like he actually saw something in me — how I dress, my sense of humour, that I "have a way about me" he can't stop thinking about.

At the end of the night we had a bit of a kiss — quite full-on, if I'm honest, and it could easily have gone further, but I held back. Didn't want to dive in headfirst. Still, I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I've seen him at work a few times — nothing but knowing looks and a bit of teasing now, which is exciting in itself — and we've texted a little, nothing serious. I kept expecting him to ask me out properly. I know he's busy with football and part-time study, but I really felt something between us.

Then yesterday we had lunch at the pub for Annie's (from Accounts) 30th — just the office girls. I turned up about fifteen minutes late, and Annie was already passing her phone round, showing off photos from a night out. When it got to me, there they were — her and Norry, dead cosy, sat on the bonnet of his car, big smiley selfie, looking every bit the couple.

My stomach hit the floor. I put my acting face on sharpish, but inside I was gutted. Everyone was going "ooh, lucky you, he's gorgeous!" and "you'll be walking down the aisle before Christmas!" — all said in fun, obviously, but it properly stung.

Maybe I'm being daft, but I really like him. Part of me wants to just ask him outright what's going on, so at least I know where I stand. I know the sensible thing is to write it off as one nice night and move on, but my gut's telling me there's more to it than that.

Please help.

Yours,
In Bits

Dear In Bits,

I don’t think you’re being daft. I think you may have accidentally wandered into the romantic clearance section.

Let us examine Norry. Handsome, funny, universally adored, works in a building populated largely by women, knows exactly how to make you laugh, and is apparently gifted at producing compliments specific enough to make a woman feel she has been individually selected from the catalogue.

“I like how you dress.”

“I love your sense of humour.”

“You have a way about you I can’t stop thinking about.”

Very nice. Lovely finish. Available in several departments.

Because the interesting thing here isn’t simply that Annie from Accounts appears to have got her hands on Norry. It’s that Annie may be evidence that Norry has got his hands on a rather wider section of the workforce.

You had a brilliant, flirty night with him. He kissed you. He made you feel that something particular was happening between you. Then he didn’t ask you out again, despite apparently finding time to become sufficiently cosy with Annie to pose together on the bonnet of his car.

I would therefore resist the temptation to think of Annie as your romantic rival. For all you know, she’s simply one aisle further along in the same showroom.

And before anybody writes in, yes: Norry is single and perfectly entitled to date more than one woman. You and he had one date and one kiss, not a civil ceremony. The question isn’t whether he has broken some sacred covenant with you. He hasn’t.

The question is whether Norry has developed a pleasant little habit of making women at work feel uniquely chosen while keeping his options as extensive as the company’s sofa range.

You can certainly ask him what’s going on with Annie if you want to. But I’d ask calmly and then listen very carefully to the answer. Don’t tell him what answer you’re hoping for. Don’t minimise your own feelings to make things easier for him. And if the explanation requires an Allen key and twelve pages of diagrams, put your coat on.

Most importantly, don’t feel embarrassed about having believed him. You weren’t foolish. A gorgeous, funny man asked you out, paid you highly personal compliments, kissed you and continued flirting afterwards. Most reasonable people would conclude that he fancied them.

He probably does.

I’m just not entirely convinced you’re the only one.

So by all means find out where you stand. But before you invest any more heart in Norry, make sure you aren’t looking at a beautiful display model that’s already been tried out by half the showroom.

You deserve better than flat-pack romance: exciting when you first open the box, increasingly confusing once you realise there are several important pieces missing.

Yours, checking the staff discount policy,
Joely

Dear Joely: Two Women Turn Every Friday Lunch into an Accounting Tribunal

The meal is pleasant. The company is good. Then the bill arrives and eight grown women begin reconstructing lunch from witness statements.

New
here?

Dear Joely,

I’m sure this is a problem as old as time, but I am living it and it sh*%s me every time it happens. Perhaps you can help.

A group of six to eight women from my office goes out to a fairly basic restaurant for lunch on Fridays. It’s a good way for us to catch up without the interruptions of work. The boss knows and allows us a little more than the allocated hour, which is nice.

At the end, we get the bill. Most of us are perfectly happy to split it, except for two members of the group who insist on paying separately.

It always turns into a palaver while all the adding and subtracting goes on. Then, without fail, there is another mini-deliberation about the tip.

Usually, I’ve had a nice meal and enjoyed the conversation, but when this happens I can’t help throwing the stink-eye at the culprits. Last time, I think I even sighed out loud.

I should add that none of us drinks alcohol at these lunches, so it’s not as though these two Karens are being asked to subsidise somebody else’s bottle of wine.

Am I being unreasonable, or are they?

Yours billigerently,
Cathy

Dear Billigerent Cathy,

The problem is not that two women want to pay only for what they ordered. That is perfectly reasonable.

The problem is that eight hungry adults are attempting to perform forensic accounting beside a cooling plate of chips.

Splitting the bill works beautifully when everyone has spent roughly the same amount and nobody minds subsidising somebody else’s extra side of halloumi. Paying separately also works beautifully when the restaurant is told at the beginning, rather than when the bill arrives and Sandra suddenly begins reconstructing lunch from witness statements.

So next Friday, say this before anybody orders:

“Can we decide now whether we’re splitting the bill or paying individually? If anyone wants to pay separately, perhaps we can let the waiter know before we start.”

That is not rude. It is administration, and administration is best conducted before dessert.

As for the tip, agree on a percentage and divide it in the same manner as the meal. There should be no second summit meeting unless the waiter has performed CPR.

And retire the word “Karens”. They may be parsimonious, exacting or simply watching their money. You are allowed to dislike the palaver without turning two colleagues into a meme.

The stink-eye may remain, but deploy it sparingly. Like truffle oil, too much ruins lunch.

Yours, with the calculator already open,
Joely