I couldn't have been happier to get to work that day. The morning had not started off ideally as I planned it to.
My wife and I had gotten up in the morning and sent off our daughter to school as we usually do. How it managed to downhill from there, well, I had nothing and nobody else to blame but myself.
I was making bacon and eggs for breakfast. Not the most fanciest of breakfast, but at least it was breakfast. The bacon was sizzling and filling the air, as well as painfully spitting onto my skin from moment to moment. The eggs were scrambled, having to be split up in half. Mine were a bit brown, hers were light and fluffy.
She was already sitting on the couch watching television when I brought out our breakfast and sat down. My body, mind, and in this case my mood, had still not completely waken up. My wife, Amanda, did not seem in the greatest of moods this morning. I didn't ask why, not yet anyways. I tried to think to myself, over and over, "why does she seem so moody?".
"Does today feel a little different?" she calmly asked me.
I shook my head. "No, not really. I woke up like every other morning."
"So, nothing at all feels, different or, special today Jordan?"
I thought hard, really hard, and then it hit me.
"Oh yes, we have to go to my office party tonight thank you for reminding me sweetheart." I leaned over to kiss her cheek. When I did, she stood up and glared down at me, this piercing blue glare that shot daggers.
Then it hit me, and I knew I had it coming.
"Your fucking office party are you kidding me?! How in the hell do you manage to fucking forget our eighth, EIGHTH, year wedding anniversary exactly?!"
All I could do is wince and stare at her. Her big blue eyes, giving me a piercing stare of which I had never seen before. We'd been together almost 10 years and not once in those 10 years had a look ever come over her face such as this.
I was at a loss of what to say. Happy Anniversary just doesn't cut it at a time like this. Flowers and chocolates didn't sound like they would work either, nor would playing the song I had made for her and played at our wedding. I knew today would not go well.
She shook her head at me, her reddish blonde locks of hair swaying over her shoulders. She stomped off going into the bedroom and locked the door.
I got up to knock on the door. My next words were not chosen wisely.
"Sweetheart, can you please let me in? I still have to go to work today and get my clothes."
After the words left me, it hit me what I had said. What in the hell was I thinking? No sorry, no begging for forgiveness, no spontaneous thing to try to express my love, nothing. I told her I needed my clothes for work.
The door flung open, and just as soon as it did, my clothes hit me in the face and the door slammed shut again, and the lock once again turned.
That was my morning, now I was at work.
I don't work a fancy job, nor do I see myself as good looking either. I work a normal 9 to 5 office job. The only thing that makes me stand out is my unusually long beard that I've grown since my teenage years. I'm 25 now with my wife only slightly older at 32. My dark brownish black beard was down to my mid chest, and matched my short hair perfectly well. Brown seemed to have been the favourite colour of my body seeing as my eyes were also brown.
I stood only at 5'11. I wasn't tall, but I felt short when next to most of my colleagues at work, as most were either six feet tall, or above. All of them, good looking, clean shaven, professional men. In terms of looks, I was definitely the odd one out but it was something we all had fun with from time to time.
Four us ended up standing around the water cooler at break, including me. There was also Kyle, Brett, and Patrick. We stood there discussing just about if we were going to show up tonight, and if we would all be able to make it through the night without falling asleep standing up.
"Why must they make us go through this every single year? Ms. Wiggington knows nobody here can stand it. Why do we keep going?" Brett piped up.
"Oh hell, I have no idea. And if I did, then it wouldn't be happening tonight" Kyle said in response.
"Well, I certainly have one idea as to why we bother showing up." Patrick spoke up, and we all payed attention to him now curious to see his answer.
"To see Jordan's hot wife of course. What's she going to be wearing tonight?"
We all got a little laugh, including me and I was in most need of it after his morning.
"Yeah come on Jordan give us some details, does she have anything sexy picked out for tonight?" someone asked. The voice didn't quite hit me because it came from behind me. I turned around and my body turned to stone, both in shock and anger.
Tom was the company brown nose. Whatever Ms. Wiggington wanted, Tom would do. If someone wasn't working, Tom would pipe up. If someone didn't do something right, Tom spoke up. And it wouldn't surprise anybody in the office if it ended up true that Tom and Wiggy were banging.
I gave him a cold hard stare. Tom was, unfortunately, the best looking and most muscular at the office. You could tell he worked out daily, his arms were, not massive but quite big. And his six foot six frame did not help matters. His dark blonde hair and blue eyes made us all call him the "Office Nazi". Who else could be that loyal?
He just flashed me a grin and walked away. My mood once again dropped.
We all headed back to work as our break was just about up.
So I sat at my office, working the rest of the day. Minding my own business. Wanting to grab Tom by his hulk neck and throw him against the wall and pound his face into a bloody pulp. Out of all people to make THAT sort of comment about Amanda, it had to be him apparently. My friends making that comment is one thing, but with him it's a complete hatred and disgust to hear that.
My phone began buzzing. It was a text message from my wife. I debated as whether to answer to answer it or not. Although it said picture message, the only thing that came to me was her flipping me the bird, and for once in a none playful manner.
