Oh my, I think I just wet my panties!”

I roll my eyes at my assistant’s favorite saying when he sees something he likes, which can range from articles of clothing to a human being. We are sitting in JFK International Airport, waiting for our respective flights. He is people watching while I am trying to write some thank you emails. We just came from speaking at a three-day bloggers workshop, and I am on my way to Las Vegas for another speaking engagement at a women’s entrepreneur convention while Robert, my fabulous, fun loving, always cursing, gay assistant and friend, goes back home to Chicago to man the office.

When I accidentally published my emotional blog post over a year ago, never in a million years did I think thousands upon thousands of women would share it with their friends and it would skyrocket me to success. The advice, sympathy, and support I received from strangers was indescribable. It took Robert and I two days to go through all the emails and comments that were left for me. I tried to write everyone back, but ended up just writing a long thank you post. Never underestimate the power of women who band together to support each other when you are down or up.

“Jenna, you need to stop what you are doing and look at this fine specimen of a man!” insists Robert.

“Robert, can you stop talking about wetting your panties so loudly in public?” I chide while continuing to type on my laptop. “Anyone listening can be current or future clients and might not like how you, um, word things.” I try to get my point across delicately as I don’t want to hurt his feelings, nor do I want him to feel he can’t be himself around me.

“If people don’t like me for me, then we don’t want them for clients anyway.”

“Robert…”

“Fine, next time I will whisper it in your ear. Now will you please check this guy out!”

Sighing, I look up to appease him. The object of his lustfulness is talking to the lady at the ticket counter. With his back to me, I notice that he is very tall with curly brown hair peeking out from underneath his baseball cap, and has a very nice butt.

“Tall and a fine backside...right up your alley, Robert!” I go back to typing out my emails, not wanting to waste any more time staring at the stranger.

“That isn’t just a butt, Jenna, that is a USDA Grade A Ass!” he laughs at his own joke.

“You are seriously worse than a straight guy checking out women at Hooters,” I say, even though the comment was funny.

“Oh lighten up, Jenna. Did you sign away your sense of humor in those divorce papers as well?”

I immediately stiffen at his poor choice of sarcasm, the ink on the papers still a fresh new wound on my heart. Robert knows how devastating my divorce was and still is to me. His first day on the job was the day after that blog post - he was sharply dressed and ready to impress. He didn’t anticipate having his boss answering the door in hysterics and looking like a zombie. At that time, I didn’t realize I had thousands of emails waiting for me in my inbox, and I dumped it all on him that first day. I had no idea how to deal with it all, ashamed that I’d made my personal life so public. I was an emotional wreck that day; a horrible example of the kind of boss you want to be working for. He left me alone the remainder of that day, but decided I was worth sticking around for. Even today, I can’t believe he hasn’t quit to look for something, or someone, more stable.

I can tell Robert realizes he has gone too far. His constant chatter has stopped and he is fidgeting in his seat. I ignore him while I finish my emails. He clears his throat, expecting me to look at him or ask if he is okay, but I refuse to acknowledge him.

“Um, Jenna, I am really sorry. That was uncalled for. Please accept my apology?”

I give him a tight smile and nod my head. It is hard for me to stay mad at him because he is right. I have changed since my divorce. When I hired Robert, I was this wide-eyed, excited, energetic new business owner who thought she was the luckiest girl in the world to be her own boss. I was aware of my marriage problems, but to me, life was still good. I still loved my husband and thought we could get through our problems, no matter how bad they got. But that girl left with her ex-husband. That girl has been replaced with an insecure, wounded shell of her former self, who struggles to get out of bed every day, and not be depressed when I realize that I am alone. My heart has a wall of ice around it with cautionary tape. Work is the only thing that keeps me going. I am the only one who pays the bills now and I have people who rely on me in order for them to pay their own bills. I’ve got to succeed, so I have thrown myself into work. I work twelve-hour days on new party concepts, updating all of our social media outlets with the latest trends in parties, and inspiring other women to keep going, to better themselves and that we ARE worth it. I travel more now that I am in demand to do public speaking engagements. I couldn’t have done any of it without Robert and my best friend, Layla. They helped nurse me back to reality and put me in my place when I start getting depressed.

“I am working on trying to lighten up more and have fun. I thought I did a good job while we have been here in NYC.”

“Oh yes, I was very proud that you stayed up past midnight,” he says with a wink.

After our last seminar, everyone that we were networking with wanted to go out. Not wanting to lose the chance at making new relationships, we went bar hopping and ended up at one of the gay bars, dancing until 4 am. I had so much fun and for a split second, I did feel like my old self. But that vanished as soon as I got back into my hotel room and reality came crashing in. I was about to tell Robert that I will continue to work more on bettering myself when he starts pawing at my arm.

“Jenna, look, he turned around…quick, before he walks away from us,” he says with excitement.

The only thing I can see is a strong, chiseled jaw and a very broad chest. His hat is pulled down low over his face. He is wearing a brown leather jacket that is open to reveal a gray t-shirt that clings to his muscled chest, jeans that hug his hips very nicely and sneakers. He seems to be concentrating on whatever his ticket says, and then he turns to make a beeline for the chairs near the entrance of the gate.

“Holy balls, do you KNOW who that is? That is Cal Harrington!“ Robert says with glee.

I must have a blank stare on my face, because his expression turns to shock.

“You don’t know who Cal Harrington is? The guy who plays Erik in the TV series ‘Wrath of The Vikings’?”

“Nope, can’t say I know who he is since I don’t watch television and when I do, it is all of the Real Housewives series because you live and breathe BravoTV.”

“Girl, Cal Harrington is this hot up-and-coming actor who is currently on one of the highest rated TV shows. His character is so hot on that show. You might not recognize him because he wears a long blond wig. He has gorgeous blue eyes and he is mostly bare chested in every episode. And the sex scenes,” he sighs. “Let’s just say I masturbate to them all the time.”

I hear someone laugh and look over my shoulder at a young lady who is listening to our conversation. She quickly looks away and I turn my attention back to Robert.

“Robert, PLEASE lower your voice!” I whisper but he has peaked my curiosity. “So, the sex scenes are man on man?”

“Oh honey, do I wish, but alas, he is banging hot Viking chicks. I just take them out of the equation and insert myself.” We continue to watch Cal Harrington as he proceeds to disappear in the crowd.

“OH MY GOODNESS, what if he is on your flight to Las Vegas? I bet you he is. You lucky bitch! If you are sitting next to him, you better kiss him full on the lips, with tongue, and get his autograph for me.”

“Highly unlikely since a) I would probably get arrested for kissing him when he shouts that a stranger sexually assaulted him and b) he is probably in first class and I am in coach.”

“Jenna, did you not look at your ticket?  You ARE in first class.” He rolls his eyes at me for not paying attention to where I will be seated on the plane.

I look at my ticket and sure enough, I am in seat 3B, which is first class. I have never sat in first class.

“Robert, you know I can’t afford first class! Why would you do this?” I ask, getting angry just thinking about how much a first class ticket from NYC to Las Vegas is going to cost me.

“Have a little faith in me, Jenna. You have a gazillion frequent flyer miles, so I used some of your points to upgrade you. I knew it was going to be a long flight and figured maybe you would use your time on the flight to rest, even though I know you will work the whole time.“

Now I am speechless. That is one of the nicest things anyone has done for me. With no rebuttal, I just give him a hug and whisper thank you in his ear for always taking care of me.

“You’re welcome. I better get going. My flight back home is going to board soon.” He grabs his laptop bag and I stand up to give him a hug.

“Call me when you land,” he says, and starts walking away.

“I will – have a safe flight back to Chicago!” I yell after him.

I finish a couple of more emails and put my laptop away. One of my favorite pastimes at an airport is to people watch, so I sit back and entertain myself with the viewings. A few minutes later, the announcement is made that my flight will be boarding, starting with first class. I make my way to the entrance of the gate. I hand the lady at the counter my ticket to scan, trying to act calm, cool and collected, when inside, I am giddy as a kid in a candy shop to be in first class. I get inside the plane and notice there are four rows of first class, with two seats on each side.  Someone has boarded the plane ahead of us and I recognize the baseball hat immediately.

It is Cal Harrington…and he is sitting in the seat right next to mine.