Several weeks ago I met a guy at my neighborhood coffee shop who always carries a fake stick-on mustache or two in his wallet. The same conversation that led me to this fact also revealed that this young man had degrees in theatre and had taught theatre courses, as well as directed and acted in various productions. I liked this individual from our first meeting; even before he opened the Ocean Pacific wallet he’d had since junior high school, pulled out one of those bits of fake fur, slapped it on his lip and said, “Oui?
He spoke loudly, used wild hand gestures, and would often break mid-sentence to yell out something hilarious and totally unrelated to the conversation at hand. Coffee sprayed out of my nose when he screamed out, “My gawd! I’d love to [use your imagination here] right here in the street!” It was his response to the question, “Where do you work?” I laughed until I almost peed. It was stand-up comedy meets Tourette’s Syndrome.
This was the first of many meet-ups for coffee down the street. Today when he called I was on my way for a walk in the park, so I asked him if he would like to join me, being specific that this would not be a lollygag or a stroll. He walked over and we headed across the street at my normal pace – it wasn’t two minutes before he started to whine. To be honest, this guy was cute in the face, but a bit overweight and hadn’t exercised since the first Bush administration. How far were we going to go? How long was it going to take? Why was I walking so fast? Was I trying to be mean to him? What if he fell down? Why are we going up this hill? Are we going to walk downhill, too?
The mild complaining and joking around lasted until we started to meet other people on the path. As we would approach other walkers, runners, bikers, and park workers he would yell out things like, “Please don’t have the abortion!”, and “I just love it when you eat tapioca pudding off of my [a-hem]!” It went on and on and on and got worse as we got near the middle of the walk, the furthest point from home. We passed an old man sitting on a park bench and he looked at me and exclaimed, “Do you really think all this exercise is good for the babies? I mean, the drugs and your drinking problem are bad enough!” I walked faster. A runner with a nice body ran past and he yelled, “I know you are checking him out and think I’m fat!” I was three paces ahead of him now and a nice, happy-looking couple approached. I gritted my teeth, thinking about what might spew out next. As the couple passed me he cut them off in the middle of the path. “Are you enjoying your walk?” he asked them. “Yes”, they replied. “Well I think this sucks!” he hollered. I pretended not to know him. He caught up to me, chuckling to himself as he spied a shady park bench.
The third to last thing I heard was, “This looks like a nice spot to sit.” The second to last thing I heard was, “Hey, where you… where’s home?” I pointed in a southwesterly direction without turning around. I was still walking, and fast. I didn’t look back, not even when he screamed, “Your butt looks fantastic in those sweatpants!”
Moral of the story? There are a few. Fake mustaches are funny, but be wary of men who carry one in their wallet. Just cause it’s good one place, it might not be good everyplace. People who constantly act out for attention, get it. And my butt looks fantastic in sweatpants.