My darling co-worker Tim is irritated with me. I have done this deliberately.
The source of Tim's irritation is a fairly recent event that allowed me to check something off the Sexual Things I haven't Done (Yet) List. It's not an actual list that I wrote down, just a mental accounting of depravities I've not yet had the chance to indulge, a sort of grocery shopping list of aberrant behavior if you will. Anyway, as I mentioned, something got checked off a few months back.
Tim is an avid fan of my "guess what I did!" stories. He knows all about events like the Summer of Whoring and the Juggling of Co-workers and the Saga of Pedo-George. He's really accustomed to me being probably a bit too forthright with my adventures (sometimes mis-adventures: you've got to take the bitter with the sweet). So when I showed up at work and said "Hey Tim, I checked something off my list this weekend!" he knew exactly what list I was talking about and zipped into my office faster than Scotty could have beamed him there.
Sidenote: we do a lot of picking on each other here at the number factory. No one really means anything by it; we just like to tease each other. Tim gets teased for being the only guy at the lunch table. Bia gets teased for her really loud exclamations ("I DON'T WANT WHIP CREAM ON MINE!!!") The Cherub gets teased for her adorable comments ("I'm interested in vanilla.")And I get teased for being a freaking weirdo.
It was in the spirit of this that I suddenly decided maybe it was a little weird for a co-worker to feel entitled to get a blow by blow (sorry, had to) account of events every time I have sex. So, I decided to just not tell him. This is, of course, after I've come in and announced it and made it sound all exciting. Tim was not nearly as amused by this as I was. But I was stubborn. I wasn't telling him. He started playing 20 questions: "Is it something involving a toy? Is it something I would like? Is it something you would do again? Does it involve food of any sort? Candles? Velcro? Midgets?" Some of these I answered ("No midgets.") some I skirted around ("I can't presume to know what you would like, as I'm not you") and some I just flat out refused to answer (I'm not answering that." *smirk*).
Now, my original intention was to let him flounder for a little while and then eventually give it up. But he was so frustrated by not knowing. It was just hilarious. He had this crazed look of frenzied determination on his face, like the looks on the faces of two homeless guys who both spy a fry in the middle of the sidewalk at the same time. He just couldn't let it go. And therefore, I couldn't give it up. It was too much power. I totally had him. I could have made him buy me lunch all week if I had promised to tell him. It was. So. Awesome.
Weeks went by. I started this new annoying habit of breaking into a mocking chorus of "Tim doesn't knooo-ooow, Tim doesn't knooo-ooow..." at random moments of the day. Similarly, we would be talking about something work related and Tim would abruptly ask "What'd you cross off the list?" I smirked a lot. Tim frowned a lot. Then I did something even worse: I told someone else.
Bia was in Tim's office one day while we were going rounds ("Tell me." "No." "Tell me." "No." "Tell me"...). Bia and I decided to go downstairs for some coffee and in the elevator on the way down, I told her what it was. And also that she couldn't tell Tim.
Tim was really perturbed. And Bia started her own round of "Tim doesn't knoooo-oow" which I think has been my favorite part so far. I have to do bad stuff and not tell people about it more often; it has been endlessly fun for months now.
By the way, Tim STILL doesn't know. ;)