That Awkward Moment When Virgos Show Love
Okay, so look. Being a Virgo? We kinda suck at the mushy stuff. Big time. Today slapped me right in the face with that truth. Had this weird, warm fuzzy moment I gotta write down.
Started totally normal. Coffee was brewing, brain barely functioning. Been low-key bugged for weeks, right? See, my assistant Jamie – quiet, efficient, total Virgo like me – kept doing this thing. Every single freaking Tuesday morning for months, she’d slide a fresh packet of my favorite stupidly expensive imported chai tea onto my desk. Zero eye contact, zero words. Just… plunk. Gone. Felt bizarre, almost impersonal.
My brain, being extra Virgo today, decided, “Right. Today’s the day we catalog this peculiar phenomenon.” Grabbed my notebook – yes, physical paper, fight me – and got ready to document the 11:27 AM Tea Plunking Incident. Predictability was key.
11:23 AM: Got myself positioned near the office microwave (perfect vantage point, obviously). Pretended to be super engrossed in… the microwave display. Finger hovering over my notebook pen.
11:25 AM: Jamie walks in, right on schedule. Carrying her own thermos. She makes a beeline towards my desk. Normal. Textbook.
Then, it happened. She placed the tea down, yeah. But she paused. Actually freaking paused. And looked up. At me. Briefly. I swear her mouth twitched upwards a tiny bit – a Virgo smile is basically a micro-expression, okay? And she mumbled something. Barely audible.
“Heard you sneeze yesterday. Hate that generic office stuff.”
Boom. Brain exploded.
I stood there like a total nerd, notebook dangling. My precise observations suddenly felt like nonsense. All those silent tea packets? It wasn’t just efficient resupply. That pause? That barely-there remark? That was the freaking Virgo Love Declaration! She noticed me sneezing. Weeks ago! And interpreted it as a critique of the free, crappy tea bags. Solution: Provide premium tea forever. Without fuss. Without announcement.
It hit me like a ton of bricks wrapped in spreadsheets. All the little things:
- The spreadsheet she formatted exactly how I like, unasked.
- The way she’d refill my stapler before it jammed.
- That one time she quietly re-organized my chaotic cable drawer during lunch.
None of it was ever presented with a bow. It was just… there. Done. Efficient. Silent. Like plumbing that just works. Totally underwhelming at first glance, but critical infrastructure.
She saw my notebook. That tiny Virgo smile got a fraction wider – almost imperceptible, but I know the code now. Then she just nodded once and walked off. Back to silent, brutal efficiency.
End result? Me standing alone at the microwave. Holding a notebook documenting absolutely nothing useful. Feeling stupidly, genuinely warm. And holding this stupidly expensive chai tea packet. Turns out Virgos pour their heart out. We just do it one silently executed, perfectly timed task at a time. Forget roses. A functioning stapler and decent tea? That’s the real love language. My awkward Virgo heart gets it now. Finally.
