The Saga: Survival Report 1

Dearest Cupids,

Remember those predictions I made about working with Mr. NCOhMyGod? I hate to brag, but I should probably start charging for psychic readings now.

This man–and I shit you not–checked EVERY. SINGLE. BOX. before noon. (And no pun.)

Let’s break down today’s little workplace adventure:

Prediction #1: He’d bring coffee ✓ Not only did he bring coffee, he remembered exactly what I drink. When I called him on it, he had the audacity to refer to our coffee meetup as “our first date.” THE AUDACITY. Then claimed he “paid attention” that day. Selective memory much? Remembers my coffee order but not which relationship box he checked?

Prediction #2: At least three innuendos before lunch ✓ I lost count after seven. SEVEN. My favorite (and by favorite, I mean the one that made me want to staple his mouth shut): “I occasionally have thoughts that don’t involve getting you naked.” Occasionally. As in, most of the time, that’s exactly what he’s thinking about. How does anyone function like that?

Prediction #3: Find excuses to stand unnecessarily close ✓ When leaving for lunch, he made sure to brush his massive thigh against my arm as he walked past. Completely unnecessary given the size of the room. Later, when walking me to my car (didn’t ask for that either), he practically caged me against my driver’s side door. For what purpose? To tell me he expects my breakfast sandwich to be “at least as good as my writing.”

Wait.

My writing?

Did he mean my daily reports… or… something else? Does he know about this blog? Has he READ it? Am I being paranoid? (Probably, but also—WHAT IF?)

Shit. It’s too late now.

Prediction #4: The “Beautiful/Babe” nickname and “bedroom eyes” ✓ “Morning, Beautiful” were his first words to me. And yes, those blue eyes did that “smoldering” thing.

What’s really maddening? When he’s not being a walking HR violation, he’s actually… competent? He came prepped with fresh ideas and insights a bout the project’s direction. He listened to and built on my ideas instead of dismissing them.

It’s like dating app Mr. NCOhMyGod and work Mr. NCOhMyGod are two different personalities in the same hot body. One minute he’s all business, the next he’s asking if I’d consider getting drunk so I could “get him naked.” (For the record: I don’t drink, and even if I did, NO.)

Oh, and because life really does give out lemons, we’re spending an entire day together next Friday at an event. My one consolation is that we’re taking separate cars. I need an escape plan.

So that’s day one. I survived, barely. Though I may have suffered minor brain damage when I accidentally headbutt him in the parking lot. (Long story involving my phone, panic, and terrible coordination.)

What’s worse? I offered—OFFERED—to bring breakfast tomorrow. Why? WHY would I do that? Now I’m going to spend tonight obsessing over breakfast sandwiches like some deranged Food Network contestant because I’ll be damned if he sees me as anything other than good at everything I choose to do.

Send help?

~ Still Alive

P.S. This blog’s sudden popularity is terrifying. 1.6 MILLION shares?! If you know Mr. NCOhMyGod in real life, please keep it to yourself. I’d like to maintain what little dignity I have left.

P.P.S. I did NOT sniff him. But if I had, I would report that he still smells good.