“You still got that ninja outfit you had on at last month’s Christmas party.”

“Uh…I think so. Why do you ask, Phil?” I timorously ask, knowing I don’t want to know.

“So, can you put it on?”

“I can’t do that, Phil. If I bring out my katana, I can’t put it away until it spills blood.” I laugh out loud, although I don’t find anything funny now without my martini buzz. Phil’s fixation with ninjas is a big turn off, and I don’t want him thinking I’m going to put out.

“I just want look at it.” Phil says with a moan.

“Ok, ok, but I did warn you.” I say as I grudgingly show Phil to my dining room. “I’ll hurry.” I add, rushing off.

As I put on my ninja outfit on in my bathroom, I was hit by a load of bricks: “What’s this dumbass going to do or say at work tomorrow?" I can’t avoid him; I’ll bump into him at work. What was I thinking? Why didn’t I just say NO . This is turning out so…BAD. Phil can’t…no, Phil won’t… ruin what small amount of dignity I still own.