On Mustaches

Lazily leaning against the kitchen counter, George routinely placed some kind of large green leaves into the pan on the stove as Pete unknowingly wrinkled his face in disgust.

“I think I told you that I finally joined that gym.”

“How is it?” George answered.

“It is quite the place. And it’s ridiculously cheap for what they have. They have a lap pool open twenty-four hours a day,” Pete said. “And a towel service! The last club I belonged to that had a towel service cost one hundred thirty dollars a month. This place is just forty.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“And, I might add, even at ten in the morning there were a lot of young fit women,” said Pete.

“Those places are meat lockers for sure.”

“On principal I have never picked up a woman at a gym, but I’ve also never seen such a high ratio before,” Pete continued. “It’s crazy. I’ve always hated the feeling I get that I might meet a women there. Luckily, I have my sights already set on this Cammie.”

“You’re wasting your time, Pete,” said George.

“I mean, this one blonde, there was no reason for her to walk right past my machine. No reason at all. But she did.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you, Pete, that women are more forward than you ever let yourself believe,” said George.

“No. No way. This one was gorgeous. She wasn’t checking me out. She came by because she was pissed I wasn’t ogling her,” said Pete.

“That’s beautiful women for you. And that’s why they hate the mustache.”

“What?” asked Pete.

George then elaborated, saying, “My mustache. Beautiful women can’t stand not getting the attention. And a mustache, different than a beard, demands so much attention, that women can’t stand them. I was with M- at the mall the other day. She was actually getting upset. She thought it was a fluke the first time, but a total of three random strangers complimented me. Nearly everyone else stared at me, not her, as we walked around. It was eating her alive. It was so funny.”

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