Humans are animals

“Why do people have affairs, Cece? Why do happy people have affairs?” This was a question my resident posed to me about five minutes into what I thought was going to be a casual after-work drink between two colleagues. We were sitting at bar in an uncomfortably upscale restaurant, made even more awkward because it was only just 5:00, and I was there with an older, and married, man.
“Um….”
“Because humans are animals. And they need diversity. I want you to think about this. You have to keep your life interesting, you know?”
“Oh, my life is pretty interesting,” I say.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Cece…”

What is going on here? Last time I checked, we were going out for a drink because we got out of work early. Granted, this person had given me my own personal nickname, taken me to lunch, and threatened me with a spankings if I messed up prescriptions, but I never fully realized that I was being hit on; I just thought it was normal work dynamics. Damn! Always a beat behind!

Naturally, this was not the first time I have been preyed upon by an older male boss, so I had some experience navigating the waters without getting totally freaked. I made it through this sexual harassment session, carefully balancing charm, disapproval and amusement. As any woman in this situation knows, you have to let him know you’re not into it, but not bruise his pathetically delicate ego.

One hour (and one delicious mojito) later, my resident blatantly suggested that I become his mistress, whom he could take out to fancy restaurants and the opera. He also told me his life story, and the synopsis of the opera Eugene Onegin, which itself is apparently all about cheating, Russian men. So, actually, between my buzz, and his, I’m not sure which exactly was his life, Eugene’s life, or my life at the current moment. Thankfully, the evening ended rather benignly; I got away unscathed, save for a quick and painless grab/pat of my thigh as I was getting out of his Mercedes.

My roommates were entirely disgusted by the whole situation. “He’s MARRIED, and he was hitting on you???” Why was this so shocking? Clearly, they had never been hit on by a married man. When I told them that I had given him my number (I was tricked!), they looked at me like I had betrayed married women around the world, especially them, since they were soon to be married. I found myself a bit irritated by this. I had a sudden urge to educate them that most men like to flirt with women, and that unfortunately, not all married men were as head-over-heels, only-have-eyes-for-you as their future husbands.

Jo took a different approach to the event, and it saved me. “You go in there tomorrow, and throw it right back. Wear something hot, and be as charming as ever.” The French have a great word for this-- coquettish.
“Maybe Dr. G is acting like this because he is European. You know how all French people are always having affairs?” I suggested.
“Yes, but he’s forgetting that he is not French, he’s Russian.”

Ah there’s the rub. We are not two French people, so bored with our working lives that we succumb to an affair (although I admit that would be quite interesting and tres passionate). We are a Russian resident, with a baby on the way, and an American medical student, with a very important life ahead of her.

After some thinking about this night, I have come to be rather amused by it. Why not? There was no harm done; I perhaps have an even better relationship with my resident, since I showed (admittedly unfairly) that I was cool and can joke around with him. Things have been great at work; my evaluations are shining, and I am now, proudly, the department’s “favorite.” A little charm can go a long way…as long as you know when to rein it in. One mojito limit!