Archive for March, 2010

The Unfortunate Mustache

Friday, March 12th, 2010

How I’ve managed to avoid writing this story is beyond me, but it happened. Grab a chair and some popcorn and pull up close to your computer while your Leah Kitten tells you a story.  Once upon a time in the time of BB (Before Boyfriend)…

I met a bartender with an unfortunate mustache. The mustache itself was pencil thin, a la John Waters, but stretched out to the sides, beyond the upper lip, before darting down like widening whiskers, getting thicker and more pronounced as it crossed the lower cheeks and met the jawline. It was as though his mouth had been attacked by a pencil thin line and two wedge hair triangles. The mustache was awful.

He was cocky and sure and quick with a response.

“What’s up with the ugly mustache?” I asked raising one eyebrow.
“It’s March,” he shrugged with nonchalance. “That’s when you grow a mustache. Since I’m growing one I decided it should be an ugly one.”

It was an answer I could accept and hours later, fueled by cocktails and hormones I agreed to go on a date with him. He wanted to take me here, to one of the nicer restaurants in town. Being a foodie I was giddy with anticipation. Unfortunate mustache aside, this guy seemed like a good thing. But the restaurant he picked is closed on Mondays. Not a big deal, I thought, because surely a man of his tastes would find an appropriate second choice locale.

The typical charade of text messaging and phone calls that we call the dating game ensued in the next few days until it was the day of our date. I carefully planned an outfit (around the shoes, clearly) and waited, ready to be wined and dined…

“There’s a movie I really want to see,” he said as I headed over to meet him.

Movie? That’s what dates are made for, right? I went to film school, I like movies, let’s go see a movie!

This was the movie.

I probably should have left when I found out that the evening’s entertainment revolved around rape and murder. I really should have left when he pitched a fit (I mean 4-year-old temper tantrum style) about “needing to see this movie.”  But I stayed.

I shrugged off the movie fit and resolved to have an enjoyable evening. I was curious about this odd creature and didn’t think the date was unsalvageable. Yet.  It only got more interesting…

At the restaurant he ordered for me. Not in a sweet Jeff Spicoli, “The lady will have the linguine and white clam sauce,” sort of way. But in a controlling HE DIDN’T ASK ME WHAT I WANTED AND JUST DECIDED WHAT IT WAS I WOULD BE EATING sort of way.

After the movie, two blissful hours of graphic violence later, we were driving back to my car when he pulled off the side of road.

In my head I could hear the theme from Deliverance and could only imagine what next redneck treat was in store for me.

We had pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot. Why?  To buy a gun rack of course.

And that my loves was my mustache mayhem adventure…