He was friendly. He was flirty. He was American.
But he had a moustache.
My Saturday night is now nothing but a boozy blur. But here’s what I remember. Some girlfriends and I drank champagne. We went out for dinner. We drank more champagne. We told funny stories and laughed hysterically. We drank more champagne. We had deep and meaningfuls. The restaurant closed. We found a bar. We drank more champagne. We cried and hugged each other. The bar closed. We found another bar. Decided, sensibly, that we didn’t need any more champagne.
So we ordered margaritas.
We danced. We drank more margaritas. Someone fell over. And when I reached the point where I needed to hold one eye closed to focus properly, Moustache Man suddenly appeared.
From what I remember, he was lovely. Outgoing, interested, confident and charming. New to London, and keen for adventure. Sympathetic to my lack-of-focussing-ability. A potentially perfect leading man.
HE HAD A MOUSTACHE.
Now, you need to understand – I really, really hate moustaches. To me, they are the ugliest, dirtiest things in the world. A clean-shaven man? Lovely. A guy with a bit of stubble? Perfect. Sporting a full beard? Hot. But a moustache? Gross, just gross. Hairy, scary and (I don’t know why), but kinda pervy.
For me, November is a terrible month. As Movember takes hold, good-looking men all over the place are suddenly afflicted with a hairy upper lip. It’s terrifying!
And that – especially for a girl looking for love – poses a major problem. If you meet a moustached man in late November it COULD be that he’s a charitable, fun guy, out to raise some money and have a laugh. The moustache could be gone in days, revealing a handsome, clean-shaven Mr Right. Or, he could seriously think a moustache is a good look and HAVE ONE ALL THE TIME.
It’s a difficult time for a moustache-fearing girl.
Bring on December 1!