11:42 pm
Must come up with a strategy. Josh is the master of strategy- or so he assumes. Knowing how to avoid people after you piss them off shouldn't really qualify as criteria for the title of "Master Strategist" but Josh seems to think so. But in order to deal with this situation, I'm definitely going to need a plan of action.
"Josh, I don't know if you've been blind for the past two years, but I'm completely in love with you and I was kind of wondering if you give a flying fig about me."
No. That sucks. The truth, yes. But it isn't Shakespeare. Nor is it a tactically wise thing to do. Can't really follow general government policy of denying everything if I have just spilled my guts to him. Nix strategy number one.
"Josh, here's a hypothetical situation for you. An assistant is in love with her boss and is unsure if her feelings are reciprocated. What should she do?"
Wild monkeys could figure out who the hypothetical assistant is. Will give Josh the benefit of the doubt that he could figure it out too. Yet, gives him an opening to play dumb. A better strategy than Number one but still weak.
I think I need some Ben & Jerry. Somewhere I'm pretty sure I read that it helps stimulate the thinking processes.
So I'm making it up. Didn't really read that somewhere. Doesn't mean that it's not true.
Ice cream is good. Ice cream is a universal comfort constant. No matter what happens, it will be there for you. Supportive. Caring. And in my case, chocolately-delicious. And good for those thinking up strategies late at night.
"Josh, heard from Joey Lucas lately?"
AAARGH! The masochist in me rises again. Why, why, why do I do this to myself?
I know why. Cuz I have this sick fantasy that by pushing Josh into Joey's waiting arms, he'll realize that the one he loves is somebody else.
Namely me.
Keep dreaming, girl. And say goodbye to strategy three.
Three strikes and I'm out.
Wednesday, April 7th. 8: 03 pm Number of strategies formulated 19. Number of strategies found to be acceptable 0. Number of times have mentally beaten up self for monumental stupidity very large, uncountable number
Very nervous at work today. It's because I have no strategy. There's this compliment of Josh's that's just hanging out there and I don't know what to do with it. I obsessed all last night, I've obsessed all this morning and I'm obsessing now. I'm fidgeting. It's what I do. And Josh is giving me weird looks.
"Donna?"
"Yes, Josh?"
"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"
"No."
"Did some random office supply mistakenly get shoved up your ass?"
"No!"
"Then will you please sit still! You're driving me crazy!"
If only. And he was so nice to me yesterday. Hot and cold, this Joshua Lyman.
So why the hell do I bother? Out of all the men in all the worldwhy oh why him?
I seem to be asking myself "why?" a lot lately. Perhaps I should become a Zen-Buddhist. Could meditate and find the meaning of life. Then maybe all other questions will get answered too. I should ask Josh if I could get paid leave for spiritual guidance.
"You want what?"
"Paid leave for realizing my spiritual self."
"Uh-huh."
"Self actualization has its benefits, Josh."
"Okay, but I really don't see why we should pay you for it."
"Cuz when I find out the meaning of life, I just might share it with you."
"Might?"
"Well, you know, if a guy were to, say, take his assistant to Hawaii"
"To get in touch with her spiritual self.?"
"Tropical sun and warm weather speed the meditative process."
"Shouldn't you be perched on a high mountain somewhere instead?"
"Really, Josh. That's just silly."
"Yeah- cuz we all know how paid leave for self actualization is a serious topic of discussion."
"Josh-"
"They debate it in the hallowed halls of the Senate."
"Now you're just mocking me."
"See? All the perception you need, right here."
"I think I could get better in Hawaii."
"Donna, I think you're crazy enough as it is. Where the hell is the Daniels' file?"
"Under your paperweight."
"I have a paperweight?"
And so the cycle continues. Banter buddies and nothing more. How could I have thought otherwise?
It's fate. It has to be. Just look at all the couples with dynamic verbal exchanges who suffer roadblocks in their love lives. To cover motion pictures and television alone would take months. So- let us confine our data gathering to the West Wing, shall we?
Exhibit A: Josh and yours truly. I hardly need bother to go into this, right? Obvious. Glaringly, painfully and humiliatingly obvious.
Exhibit B: CJ and Toby. I know what you're thinking: Whatever happened to Danny Concannon? Doesn't matter. They had their banter way before Danny ever entered the picture and Toby's better at it too. "Is there ever a time I don't want to make out with you?"
If Josh ever said that to me, I think I'd need lots more that just a strategy. I'd need medical personnel to jolt me with those paddles a few times. Then some Lyman mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Oh yeah.
But I digress. Focus. Zen-Buddha, come to me now.
Exhibit C: Sam and Ainsley. Apparently it was lost on the others that it took them an inordinately longish amount of time to get coffee the other night during the joke writing session. Love knows no bounds- it even crosses political parties.
So why can't it cross the line between Deputy Chief of Staff and assistant?
I think the planets are aligned against me. I bet NASA could prove it if anything they built ever worked.
I set low expectations for myself. That's why I go out with these morons all the time. That and I'm terrified of dying alone in my apartment gored by cats. And then there's Josh. Is that setting myself up too high?
Nah. This is Josh Lyman we're talking about here. The moron who almost burned down the White House while making a fire in a non-functioning fireplace. The conceited bastard who constantly puts his foot in his mouth. The swaggering doofus who absolutely refuses to take his assistant to Hawaii.
Maybe I'm still setting my expectations too low.
Yes. That's it. New strategy: find someone better than Josh Lyman.
Like hell I will.
Okay then. Will continue strategy that has worked thus far. Should Josh bestow kindliness on me or vice versa, verbal or non-verbal, will shrug it off and scuttle out of the room as quickly as possible to avoid embarrassment, making sure am not followed. It worked after my Dr. Freeride confession. If you were in an accident, I wouldn't stop for red lights. Meant every word. But got my ass out of that room so fast you would have thought my hair had caught on fire and I was rushing to extinguish it.
It sucks, I know. But it has had its uses. And I can't seem to think of anything better. At least, not without some ice cream.
10:37 pm
Walter called me. Apparently he is very penitent about last night and would like to make it up to me by taking me out to dinner. Isn't that the kick in the head? The guy is an asshole, so much so that the date prematurely ends, yet because he takes the time to say he's sorry he gets another?
I said sure. Am I an idiot or what?
No. Am not an idiot. Am a masochist. Am a raving psychotic masochist. I have the stupid idea that if I can't push Josh into Joey Lucas' arms then I'll throw myself into someone else's. Anyone else's. Teeming with jealousy, hurt and alone, he will finally realize his true feelings for me and will climb up my fire escape a la Richard Gere in Pretty Woman and whisk me away from this hellhole.
Yeah. Right.
Padded rooms are looking real good right now. Especially if I can get away from cats, Candi and Chad.
Crazy might not be all that bad.
Thursday, April 8th. 7:27 pm Number of times Walter has mentioned glue in the last five minutes 34. Number of times wished Walter was Josh 89. Chances of me minding the talk about glue if it were Josh talking 1,000,000 to 1. Number of people suddenly coming to town 1 (entirely too many).
Hate dating. Am now huddled in ladies restroom hiding from Walter, who, if he hailed from a village, would certainly have been the idiot in residence. It's not like he hasn't tried to get on my good side by speaking slightingly of Chad. But somehow all roads lead to epoxy in this nightmarish world into which I have descended. A world where only one place is safe: the bathroom.
Think I am making the other women uncomfortable as I sit here writing away while they primp in front of the mirror for (I suppose) their dates/ significant others. At this point, I don't really care. It's better than playing "Know Your Solvents" out in the dining room.
Josh had his last of the cell phone meetings today. They had been so frustrating to him that I almost brought him coffee in the morning. But I didn't. It would have ruined our whole dynamic. That and I'm afraid of every move that I make around him now. I watch my steps carefully to make sure that I'm not giving myself away. Bringing him coffee most definitely would have signaled that something was up.
And absolutely nothing is up. I'm just regular ole Donna. Who remains completely besotted by her boss. Nothing new.
I didn't tell Josh about this date. I figure I can spare myself the humiliation in the morning. Cuz he ain't no Richard Gere and I'm a far cry from Julia Roberts. (Though I do have alabaster skin- take that Pretty Woman!) But I hope he's not pissed off at me. I kinda just left. I mean, the rest of the world gets off hours before I usually do so technically speaking, I left at what is considered to be an acceptable time. Which is to say, not acceptable in the West Wing. Or rather, not acceptable to Joshua Lyman, the order impaired slave driver.
Am about to go back and face my doom. I've been in here for almost a half an hour now and I think he might get suspicious that I'm not . GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Was my beeper. Forgot I had left it on vibrate. Gave me quite the jolt since I was half sitting on my purse. Now several more ladies are giving me bizarre looks since I jumped up with a half-yelp. It's Josh. It's urgent.
Thank you, oh thank you, God! Thank goodness for my workaholic boss! I love him! Already did but now more cuz am rescued from date from hell! Prince Charming, I'm coming to the rescue! It's only fair, since he came to mine.
11:56 pm
Guess what Josh's emergency was. Was it a terrorist attack on a US embassy somewhere? Did the cell phone issue become so incredibly out of hand that he was receiving death threats from all parties involved? Had his proverbial crisis actually occurred and the government was poised on the brink of collapse?
No. It was worse.
It was Joey Lucas.
Yep. Back in town only four hours and already screwing with me and the precious balance of my psyche.
Supposedly Josh had called her to do an actual official poll on the cell phone thing. Am so glad, flattered and flustered to realize that he actually pays attention to what I tell him. Warm, fuzzy feeling that's absolutely grand.
Until it's completely disintegrated when I have to counsel him on what tie will impress Joey the most. Doesn't he realize that I am not the person to ask? Why not CJ? Or Sam? No. He picks me. Sexually frustrated and angst ridden me.
I should have stayed in college. I should have gotten my degree in French and gone off to Paris where I could dress in haute couture and sip lattes in open air cafes and be millions of miles away from Joshua Lyman.
One of the most powerful men in the country who still can't dress himself.
And yet I still love him. God. Am. I. Pathetic.
He noticed my absence too. He mentioned it as I was helping him straighten his selected tie. Didn't he realize that that was a bad thing to bring up when I was in a position to choke the living daylights out of him?
"Was it that guy again?"
"What?"
"William? Wesley? Wanker?"
"Oh, Walter. Yeah. It was him."
"Why bother?"
"Cuz he wanted to apologize."
"You gave him a second date because he wanted to apologize for the first one."
"Yes."
"And this didn't like immediately appear as a really lame excuse to see you again."
"Would you please stop fidgeting? It'll be your own damn fault if your tie isn't straight. Apologies are sexy."
"What?"
"Apologies are sexy. It happens to be very appealing when a man can admit that he's wrong."
"As opposed to looking like a ninth grade dating strategy?"
Josh Lyman. Lecturing me on love strategy. Boy, is he out of his league. Need subject switch quick.
"Josh, this is why you get nowhere with Joey Lucas. Because you don't know how to read women's signs."
"What signs? There are no signs!"
"Josh, there are signs. She likes you. She shows it. You need to take advantage of this and not just by wearing a nice tie."
Masochist. Masochist. Masochist.
"And you're suggesting what?"
"Go to dinner. Go have drinks. Go somewhere that is not the West Wing and endeavor to speak of something that does not involve politics or world affairs. And if you say something stupid, which inevitably happens"
"No, it doesn't"
"Which inevitably happens, just apologize."
"Because it's sexy."
"Very."
"Where do you come up with this crap?"
"Years of experience, Joshua. Years of experience."
Long pause. Long awkward pause. I hate these. And they always seem more frequent when a certain pollster is in town.
"I'm sorry I interrupted your thing tonight."
"Are you? I'm not." Must. Follow. Procedure. Get out while you still can breathe. He's using the nice voice. Run. Now.
"I do know the signs. I just can't do anything about them," he muttered.
Even while rapidly scuttling, I can still pick up the Lyman mutterings. Such weary bitterness in that statement. I wanted to go back and give him a big hug. That would be a sign he couldn't miss. It effected me rather oddly. For some absurd reason, I assumed he was talking about me and not Joey Lucas. Felt the need to go home right away. So I did.
Probably best to avoid him altogether. Let him realize his thing for Joey. It's all for the best really. I think I've lost my ability to banter. And I probably make very tasty cat food.
Friday, April 9th. 12:15 pm. Revelations 1 (isn't that enough for one day anyway?).
OH. MY. GOD. Have decided 9 must be the luckiest number in the world.
Okay. First bizarre thing of today: Josh got here before me. He never gets here before me. Okay, well there were those few times when he got stoned at his desk and never left the building and then he was, technically speaking, here before me. But those don't count. He never gets here before I do.
First thought: He slept with Joey Lucas. He had such a rousing night of good polling numbers and fantastic sex that he bolted out of bed and with a spring in his step rushed to the West Wing before me.
No. Handed Josh new memos for this morning and he wasn't very chipper. Not like a man who had sex with Joey Lucas. Sigh of relief.
Yet, he looked so depressed this morning before staff. Maybe he struck out with her. Made a pass and she said, sorry, I'm sleeping with Al Kiefer again or similar political doofus. Then I'd have to maim her cuz I can't have people messing with my boss that way.
Then it happened. Josh walked back from staff with Sam and then went into his office, half shutting his office door. He does this every so often, when he wants privacy but wants to maintain this look of innocence, like nothing important is going on behind a mostly closed door. The great thing about this silly act of his is that while you can't see much, you can still hear everything, down to the last detail.
Thank goodness for my acute hearing, that's all I have to say. Cuz as I was going back to my desk with my coffee, I overheard this:
"I feel like I'm in junior high again." Sam. Very frustrated.
"Just answer the damn question!" Josh. Also frustrated. What the hell is going on?
"Maybe she's trying to be helpful. She's a very nice person, you know."
"Yes, I know, we've met. But what I'm asking is why the hell would she encourage this?"
Who is the remarkable she'? Joey Lucas?
Large sigh from Sam. "Let me ask you a question. Do you like Joey?"
Pause. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. "She's a very attractive woman" Damn Josh Lyman and his superficiality!
"Okay, now you're the one who's avoiding questions."
"Well, you started it."
"Did not!"
"Did too! I asked you what you thought of Donna encouraging this thing with Joey Lucas two days ago and yet still no answer."
GASP. Help. Having weird feeling in my knees and in precarious position with great probability of falling over.
"If you would answer my question, then I could help answer yours."
"Okay, Sam? This is why you sucked at policy debate in college."
"You gonna insult me or you gonna answer the question?"
"Well, since I already answered the question, I think I'll choose insult you for $200."
"You know what? I don't think I like you anymore. And if I were Donna, a feat which of course would require of number of things most notably a sex change and a predilection towards men, I wouldn't like you either."
AAAAAAAH! Sam- you are going down. If I have to break every bone in your body-
"What did you say?" Please oh please tell me that Josh momentarily went deaf and that Sam walks away. Don't answer him, don't-
"You heard me." SAM!
"Joey Lucas said the same thing."
"Joey hates you too? Great another political snafu you've gotten us into"
"No, no- that, that Donnalikes me." WHAT?! Goddamn that woman! How the hell does she know?
"Good God, Josh, isn't it obvious?" Thank you so much for caring, Sam. Bastard. "Has anyone ever stuck with you that long- other than me of course and members of your immediate family?" Good point Sam. Still pissed at you though.
Silence. Ooooooh, not good, not good, not good. Will now have to get new job, in new country, maybe with new face.
"Josh? Do you like Donna?"
EEK! EEK! EEK! EEK!
"Sure, I like Donna. She's fun and intelligent and she files stuff for me and has good taste in ties"
"No, no, do you liiiiike her?"
Ohmychristalive.
"She doesn't bring me coffee." Still harping on that, are we?
"Josh-"
"Wouldn't you think if this, this assumption you're making was true that she would bring me coffee?"
"Josh-"
"I think so."
Couldn't stay and listen anymore. Had to get out. Wobbled to the door and walked around in a haze. Felt like laughing and crying all at once.
Now am no longer feeling as hysterical. Walked til I found this nice bench in the Sculpture Garden near the fountain. The cherry blossoms are in bloom and everything is wonderful.
At least until I go back. I'll need a strategy. But, right now, the sun and the sky and the cherry blossoms are enough for me. Why? Because Josh likes me. Really likes me.