Dear Boss Lady;

If I was a brave heart, I would send you this message.

Yes, what you pulled the other night at our event was a dick move. Yes, my feelings are hurt... and yes, it seemed awfully god damned pointed, in the moment. So much so, that our treasurer... a guy that doesn't do feelings - said something to you about it.

I know I said it didn't bother me... but it did. It does. 

Please don't misunderstand. I am grateful I instead, spent a romantic evening with my husband by the water, rather than patronizing some dive in downtown red-neck-fisher-town, with you and your groupies. 

No... my night was much nicer... and it ended in wild-ass hotel sex. So... no contest.

It's just the way you ditched me. In a bitch-snit about nothing... and your excuse was, I didn't answer your text... on the phone that I had left in my room... to go downtown with you in the first place! 

I found myself later wondering if perhaps I had been getting attention you deemed to be yours.

I'm being gracious about this and not stirring the pot, but that is because of who I am and has no bearing on what I now know you to be. 

Let's just be clear. I don't like feeling as though I am being dishonest with you. 

I'm not okay with it. 

I don't want to talk about it any further. 

I will not allow that to happen to me again.

Please don't act all surprised when I fail to follow you into whatever unprofessional foolishness you plan to drag me through next... like maybe a strip club with a bunch of horny, middle-aged teenagers. That seems a likely happenstance at our next event. 

Unless, of course, I get left on my ass while you peel away again. Guess that depends on how much attention I get, doesn't it?

I'm good.

We're good.

Let's just move on, shall we?

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