I’m generally under the assumption that every ridiculously good looking man who travels for business, hooks up with whoever he can while he travels. Maybe those men are also under the assumption that we, as hotel employees, also hook up with the hot business travelers who pass through.
Maybe it’s this mutual assumption that allows hotel hook-ups to happen so easily.
I can confirm that on the hotel employee end of things, this isn’t necessarily true because unless we’re perfectly stealth about it, we can lose our jobs.
But we’re also human and once in a while someone stealth-worthy comes along.
ENTER: Hot guy from Kentucky.
The first time I saw him sitting at my hotel bar last summer, I assumed he was in town for an International Hot Athletic American conference that I wasn’t aware of, or maybe a CFL football event? There was no way he could be here on business.
He sat at the very end of my bar wearing a sleeveless gym shirt, holding an ice pack on his bicep, which was roughly the size of my thigh. The ice pack solidified my idea that he must be an athlete of some sort.
Through brief conversation with him I found out the bicep injury was gym related, not sports related, but I still didn’t ask what he did for a living that day we first met. I only drooled over him in private to the other females I work with. They were also drooling over him.
The next week he reappeared at my bar so I acted surprised when I said, “Oh, you’re still here?” He wasn’t still here, he was here again.
Sweet, he came back.
I’ll fast track the story a little because it went on for an entire season last summer. It turns out Kentucky is a tech nerd, which was the last occupation on planet earth that I would have placed him in. In my opinion, it added to his hotness. He was now a hot nerd.
Kentucky was in my city on business all summer long. He’d fly in on Sunday nights and stay usually until Thursday, then fly home for weekends. So he became a fixture in the hotel, part of our “family” so to speak. But the adopted kind of family, so that fantasizing about him wouldn’t be sick and inappropriate.
Nonetheless, his presence in the hotel was very welcome because I felt the need to look at him all day and night, and then some.
And I did.
Not long into my one-sided mental love affair I was secretly having with him, I noticed him checking me out all the time too. Then the looks turned into hugs each time he would return to the bar after work.
He was basically a gigantic teddy bear. A 6'3", solid milk chocolate, teddy bear. The type of guy that made me act like a complete dork in his presence.
I had FULL and audible conversations with this guy when he wasn’t even around. Conversations that I hoped would actually materialize.
The hotel flirting eventually turned into group outings after work. He and his colleagues would invite us hotel girls out to shoot pool and have drinks after our evening shifts. They always paid and they always stayed out far too late to coherently work the next morning, but they were fully on board with us, their new hotel family.
Even though Kentucky had his flirt game locked down he wasn’t obnoxiously forward, which I appreciated. I hate when men are over-confident and presumptuous. Even on the nights when just he and I went to play pool alone together, he was more gentlemanly and downright FUN than anything else.
The witty banter, the competitiveness in our games, the piggy back rides to and from the hotel. It was like a cheesy, G-rated high school fling and it felt good.
He’d never been married, had no kids, and he’s the exact same age as I am. We’re one month apart. He told me his job involves 90% travel with all the projects he works on and lucky for me, his 90% was in my city that summer.
About halfway through the summer is when the first invitation to his room occurred. It happened right after one of our nighttime walks back to the hotel. He wrapped his arms around me and we briefly kissed for the first (and only time). Then he invited me up to 1115.
Slutty me wanted to go up with him more than I want world peace. Sensible me knew that he probably has one of me in every area code and I didn’t want to become his 403.
Five years ago I would have done it without batting an eye. Hell, I have done it once or twice. But something was different about Kentucky. I actually liked the guy. He made me act like a dork!
I REALLY wanted to be his 403 but I also didn’t and I’m not sure why, but sensible me won. And that’s how the rest of the summer continued. He’d invited me to his room several more times and each time I declined, using the excuse that I couldn’t risk my job.
Oddly enough, despite all my declines his attention toward me never fizzled out.
Sensible me is such a friggin loser.
Dorky me had a whole future planned out with the guy. Me, sitting on a sunny porch in Kentucky, writing stories while waiting for him to come home from work each day. We would eat southern down-home cooking for dinner each evening. Lord knows who cooked it though, it was just magically spread out on our dining room table.
Summer came and went, and before I knew it he and his colleagues were bidding us farewell. It was a giant group hug affair the day they left us for good last September.
It is now the following spring. It’s been seven months since my mental love affair with Kentucky, and last week the unthinkable happened.
He came back for phase two of his tech project and I’m mortified.
Since last summer I have moved down to on-call status at the hotel in exchange for a much better position elsewhere. It was pure fluke that I was even in the hotel last week when he arrived.
Seeing him was like no time had passed. He’s still hot as hell, I still feel like a dork, I still want to be slutty, and I have no idea how to act around him.
The minute he saw me he approached with a huge smile for his usual bear hug and of course, I turned into a wet pile of mush.
The girls I work with are telling me to just do it. They’re saying, “You only live once and if you could hit that it would be a major life accomplishment.”
They’re telling me that I should flip the script and look at it from a different angle. I should make him my 502.
I secretly agree but I still like him too much as a person to just be his “area code” for a night (or a summer).
I hate myself for being sensible. But I also hate feeling like just a hook-up.
Logical me knows that if I was at all compelling to him, we would have kept in touch all winter long and I would have known he was coming back. Logical me knew last summer that if I was at all compelling to him, he would have stayed in town for some of his weekends and spent his two days off with me.
It’s not like we’re magically going to morph into dating status, or ANY status beyond hook-ups, at 3000 miles apart in real life. So why not just be slutty and call it a night? Or a summer?
Oh right. Sensibility.