The Saga: Survival Report 6

Cupids,

Something’s wrong.

Like, body-snatchers wrong. 

Government conspiracy wrong. 

A Scorpio in Mercury-in-retrograde wrong.

For weeks—WEEKS—I’ve been bombarded with borderline HR-violating linguistic foreplay, cocky looks that come with built-in dirty subtitles, and enough innuendos to fill an entire adult film franchise. I’ve developed combat-level reflexes just to dodge the verbal landmines this man just casually drops-without warning. 

And then today… nothing.

He brought me coffee WITHOUT comment. No references to “cream” or “stirring” or any other liquid-based euphemism. Just… coffee. In a cup. With a lid. Handed to me. Like a NORMAL PERSON.

When I gave him the breakfast sandwich I made (strictly for survival purposes—a hungry Sergeant McHangry is even more unbearable)–he only said “thank you.” No comment about what else my hands could do for him.

I’m confused. I’m concerned. I’m… suspicious.

It’s like watching a tiger suddenly start eating tofu. I know something’s not right, and I’m just waiting for it to remember it’s a meat-eater and jump me. Metaphorically speaking. 

Possibilities I’ve considered:

• He’s found another victim (bless her misguided soul) 
• He saw his name saved as “ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE” in my contacts and it hurt the one feeling he actually has: his ego. (For the record, it used to be Fucking ASSHOLE Ethan, so, growth)

It’s probably not option 2 because Lieutenant LoveMeLongTime’s ego is pretty big–NOT a euphemism. It would be hard to penetrate something that thick–also NOT a euphemism.

That leaves option 1, which is what I’m leaning towards. Sergeant GetsAroundALot acquired a new target. Heard him on the phone making lunch plans with someone–and he was smiling. And when I basically tossed him the perfect setup—literally mentioned getting naked—he just said “We’ll see.”

WE’LL SEE? Right?

Who is this person and where is the man who would have taken that softball and hit it into the next country?

I’ve spent so much mental energy establishing defenses against his relentless charm attack, that I’m now completely unprepared for… whatever this is. It’s like training for months to climb Mount Everest only to show up and find they’ve installed an elevator. 

My bestie insists I’m spiraling because I actually MISS the attention. Which is ridiculous. Preposterous. Absolutely not what’s happening here.

AS IF.

I just… I don’t like change. That’s all. I like knowing what I’m dealing with. I like having a well-established dynamic where I know which direction to duck when he inevitably makes a comment about “hard deadlines” or “in-depth focus meetings.”

Mr. NCOhMyGod 2.0? Throwing off my entire workplace ecosystem. It’s disorienting. 

He was MY ego-maniacal, boundary-challenged Mr. NCOhMyGod 1.0 yesterday. Today? Someone else’s mild-mannered, respectful knock-off. 

And I don’t like this new system update. It didn’t come with instructions. 

Did I accidentally wish for this on a monkey’s paw? Did some well-meaning fairy godmother misinterpret my constant complaints? Was this a test I accidentally passed but actually wanted to fail?

I guess it’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Or will be. Just gotta figure out this… this.

Send prayers for my sanity, Cupids. Or the instruction manual for whatever the hell is happening.

Here waiting for the other combat boot to drop,

~ The first “Work Wife” 

P.S. Not that I care, but if anyone has any insight, my curiosity (ONLY my curiosity) would like to know.

P.S.S. If it really is option 1, does that mean no more breakfast sandwiches and coffee? 

P.S.S. No one makes breakfast sandwiches like mine. 

P.S.S.S. But… him bringing coffee saves me a trip. 

P.S.S.S.S. And he really likes my breakfast sandwiches. Can he give those up for a “casual” fling? Really? Or does he think I’m gonna be the “work-wife” that cooks for him in the kitchen, and my replacement’s the “sidepiece” that cooks for him in the bedroom? 

P.S.S.S.S.S. The fuck I will.