How to fall out of love

So it's been about a month since my first office romance has ended. But it only ended for me, as it became apparent from Matthew's e-mails, which contain various emotional massages – ranging from anger and arrogance to the kindest and sweetest little notes.

And in addition, I am to spend an entire management meeting seating opposite him. I recognise his aftershave immediately and I swear, if I close my eyes I will feel like being in bed with him again, that's how strong it is (although we never actually slept with each other!). He's changed – contact lenses instead of glasses, serious and thoughtful expression on his face (not that he looked like an imbecile before). I know exactly why I fancied him – that deep voice! People naturally turn to him when hear him speak.

But I also know very well why he wasn't for me – he is controlling, and under all this apparent manliness he is quite insecure and lost.

The meeting is being scheduled by our senior manager, Jay - we are to decide on the mid year grading of the whole department. This is not one of the boring meetings I often attend, where people try to monopolise the time to only solve their issues or in turn can't make simple decisions! Today the pressure is on identifying certain number of people as 'underperformers', to fit in the curve of the organisation as a whole. Not easy, but needs to be done.

It's 5 of us here, and just like '12 Angry Men', no one wants to be here today.

My boss, for instance - he's e-mailed this morning warning that he will be in later than usual. It transpires his brother has been sectioned again. I notice tiny traces of blood on his otherwise immaculate white shirt. Yes, he's got a 10 year younger sibling, who is bio-polar, and has been in and out of hospitals for past 8 years. As much as I sometimes hate my boss, I do admire his heroic affords to 'save' his brother.

Then there is Neal, who hasn't slept since 4am as his 6 months old daughter kept him awake, but his dreamy grin tells us all how much he enjoys fatherhood.

''I don't believe she is capable of that Neal - she looks like an angel'' I complement Neal's child, who was brought to the office last week to say 'Hello'. At which point Matthew gives me a certain look – the look of 'you see, you could have had one just like that (if not better) if you stayed with me'.

And there is Rick – a bold, ex equities trader – who clearly has no desire to be here, as his long awaited holiday in Mallorca, with mates, starts tomorrow.

Contrary to my predictions, the meeting runs smoothly, and we agree to downgrade 2 out of 13 people. Not bad. And as its lunchtime and a sunny day, they all head to the pub next door for a pint. Except me – don't want to create opportunities for mingling with Matthew.

As usual, my boss only returns to the office to pick up his jacket, and to thank me for staying behind with the team. Of course, not a problem – a pleasure in fact, I assure him, and suggest gently he should rest after the traumatic events of the previous night. Once I have his attention I ask if he's eaten anything today.

He looks at me with a curiosity and a different level of seriousness I haven’t seen in him before, then he quickly composes himself, laughs it off with ''Eating is cheating!'' and waves me good bye.

The next morning, to my surprise, I receive a text. It’s from my boss, Jay:

''Hi. Went for a drink with Matthew last night and he was very upset. He told me you were a couple until a month ago? He is confused and I think he just wants to be friends with you as he misses your friendship. Just though I would let you know''.

Oh, great. He told him! Idiot.

I don’t need to think much about a reply:

''Morning Jay! Thanks for letting me know but I don't think I can be friends with him at the moment. I am purely thinking about work and how it would be affected. Hope you are OK.''

My boss texts back: ''I totally understand about you and Matthew. He was crying!.....I really like your intense personality! x''

What does that mean? Is he still drunk or is he…hitting on me?

Romance on court, mysterious wounds and poked eyes

Looks like I have a new admirer in the office. Nick, a very promising manager, who has gone jogging with me few times when the weather was so glorious. He is now also a member of my netball team so all in all, he is trying to get closer, I believe.

After previous week's netball injuries, including my own mysterious one - imitating a deep knife slash to the calf, as if I took a part in a violent gang fight - I get another chance to taste some quality netball. And Nick is here too.

I am not expecting miracles, knowing we are against last season's winners. And when I hear our guys calling one of the opponents 'magnificent' or 'a flying monkey' I seriously start to doubt our chances. Nevertheless, our 'centre', Luke, doesn't loose faith, quite the opposite, he now resembles an Arab horse that is about to enter a race – steaming with energy!

OK, we are in. The first quarter seemed like it only lasted a minute. I now know what guys meant earlier when referring to the rival as 'a flying monkey' – this guy is bouncy – he is very little, but he compensates with 4 foot jumps, that happen right in my face, as he is a wing defence to my wing attack. The first jig freaks me out, to say the least.

It doesn't look good, and by 6-0 in their favour, we are fully aware of what this 'magnificent Jeff' is capable of. At one point he drops the ball in while standing backwards! (But having glimpse of Nick’s legs in tight shorts keeps me in a fantastic mood regardless.)

By 12-3 we are drained in sweat, and all look at each other with resignation, seeing the opponents changing players frequently - bringing fresh pairs of legs and capable hands. They even have someone, who’s sole aim of existence on the side of the pitch, is to scream ‘GO MONKEYS, GO!!!!!!!’ In contrast, we have only one player to change, and some of us haven’t played since high school, or come from a country that has totally different netball rules (don’t ask…).

It must have been 14-4 by then - our two players Luke and Paul (who have just entered the court with a power of bulls who’ve been waiting for the turn with a matador) crush into each other, and then bounce off violently, leaving Luke flat on the ground with his hands and legs spread, lying still after hitting his head on the ground. Everyone gathers around him in silence, while the referee pushes through, shouting, 'Don't touch him!’ After a short examination he is allowed to slowly leave the court, but his 'career' is over, just for tonight.

Somehow, united by the tragedy, we come back fully mobilised; with freshly injected energy and Paul with Jamie now in goal circle, Lucy works her magic to make goals happen. We are on the roll. And by 15-10 we are practically running the show - passing the ball and laughing out loud, realising we are actually doing all right against last year's winners!

And then it happens. A loud cry. Everyone freezes - it's Nick, bended in half, holding his left eye with both palms. We run towards him worried to death. 'It's my eye' he utters with unnaturally high pitched voice. 'What happened?' inquires referee. 'I think she poked me' Nick indicates towards a short, pretty brunette, who is now trying to look as innocent as she possibly can.

Sophie soberly takes his hands off the eye, and while inspecting it asks with seriousness worth Vietnam War, 'Can you play half blind?’

And so Nick returns to the game. By the end of the forth quarter it's 22-11, but we still can't stop laughing from the events of the evening, and totally don't mind loosing the match knowing that everyone, including the winning team, will remember it.

But I will remember something else – I will remember seeing Nick leaving the court in the company of his ‘attacker’ and heading towards the pub, where he no doubt will quickly forgive her all 'the physical abuse'. How romantic! Aghh. I pick up my stuff and decide to walk all the way home.