Ok, I don't really know what to call Steve's behavior right now. I don't believe it's sexual harassment, because it's not designed to get me to do anything with him really. Truthfully, I don't know what it's designed for, but I'm sure that he derives pleasure from it.
Every morning while I'm trying to digest my bar he initiates what appears to be a wholesome conversation. He has this uncanny gift to steer the most flowery of subjects into a complete mud puddle of perversion. And every single day I fall for it; I take the bait, and end up subjecting myself to the vivid and detail-heavy depictions of his infidelity.
Take this morning: he opened up with, "G, you like music! Have you ever heard Brahms? I mean, really heard him?"
Now, I should've taken pause there because this is a man whose only allusion to the enjoyment of music is singing "Rock You Like A Hurricane" under his breath every time Nancy walks by his desk. But instead of proceeding with caution, I jumped headlong into what I thought would be a cultural conversation, "Of course! I really like---"
As is the case every day, all day, there is no time for my thoughts on the matter, because the air must be cleared for this:
"Do you have any idea how easy it is to get laid to one of his Variations For Whatever pieces? Jessa [his wife] left it in my car and I threw it on when I was giving Tina [in Copy] a ride home yesterday. I just wanted to throw her off, you know? Make her think I was that sensitive guy and she ate that shit up! G, I'm talking bloje in zero to sixty..." he continued to pantomime the sexual deeds dealt to him on the highway yesterday while I turned back to my screens. I was of course red and annoyed at this point, and trying to get my day started and embarrassed for being taken in again and trying to picture Tina doing those things.
When I first saw Steve The Greek verbally molest one of the office girls, I asked him outright, "Aren't you married?" and he told me that yes, technically he was, but that they were separated. When I pointed out that she was always calling him to see if she should make dinner and that he was wearing a wedding ring, he skipped the first observation and addressed the second in a whisper: "It makes them crazy. They want it more. The untouchable, man. The forbidden fruit, G."
I told him not to call me "G" anymore but the abbreviation stuck.
I don't know how to get moved to a different floor without switching my entire toolset. Hell, I can't even move out of this row because if I ask Athan to move me, he'll tell Steve I had a problem with him. Because they're both Greek, and Athan, like 90% of the women on our floor, has a crush on Steve.
Zoey has her eighteenth birthday in three weeks. She's employed her agent Sarah to "grease the wheels" in regards to the acquisition of funds for this Mexico trip with her friends. I'm not sure which is more insulting: that they think I'm not aware that they are constantly working in collusion to get our little princess whatever her spoiled rotten heart desires, or that my wife's version of "greasing the wheels" is to offer to cut back on her own personal spending (of my money). My beautiful bride actually tries to sell me the postponement of a single spa appointment (rest assured, it is not a cancellation she had in mind) as a personal sacrifice. Unbelievable. I'm serious; she climbed into bed, put her hand on my chest (which she hasn't touched since she bought Zoey that wretched Honda) and says, "Listen, we should really help Zo out with this Mexico thing. I do think this could be a growth experience for her [my wife uses the term "growth experience" for anything with a cost exceeding $3000]. We both do, but we don't want her going alone. So I think the right thing to do is to make sure we send Shannon and Tella with her. I know it's a lot, but she's turning eighteen... and if you can take care of getting those tickets booked, I'll make sure she has the right accommodations. Hell, I'll use my spa funds to make sure she has a good time on this one."
I guess I should point out that my wife's "spa funds" are a euphemism for the portion of my paycheck that she rations out for her weekly spa visit. And yes, yes, I DO want her to live comfortably, obviously, that means everything to me. But I don't like the fact that she thinks I can't connect the dots. And that she's acting like we're working together, when it's very obvious which team she plays for.
Anyway, the reason I bring up my little Zo is because in just three weeks she will become the legal prey of guys like Steve The Greek. And I've started having nightmares again. Sarah upped my medication just so I could sleep through the night. She says my anxieties have nothing to do with Zo's safety and everything to do with my own guilt for having once "swooped" on an 18 year old (I can only imagine how often that would come up if I'd told her that Keta was actually 17 when we first started dating... *shudder*). I don't understand why she is not afraid of setting her daughter loose in this world; not a day goes by that she doesn't make reference to the "seedy minds of men," but she seems fully confident that Zo will navigate the hormone tornado and emerge unscathed. As if she didn't have any of my DNA...
Steve just spoke loudly with his wife on the Vid, told her he would be home "a little late." Then he winked at me.