When I Take Them Off, I Become Wonder Woman

All of sudden, every guy I meet is obsessed with my glasses and what they mean about my self-perception. In fact, they mean that I can’t see, but that’s too simple an explanation. (I totally sympathize with this. I prefer things to be as convoluted and dramatic as possible, involving multiple affairs, scandalous gossip and general bad behavior. “I can’t see”? Feh.)

Last night, not one but two guys asked me about my glasses. The second guy? Was the only straight dude in a gay bar. The bar was so gay, it literally smelled like creatine. The dude was so straight, he was wearing a doorag with dollar bills stapled to it. I wish I could make this stuff up, but I’m merely reporting the facts.

“I like the gays, you know?” he said. “I used to run a gay club. My sister is a lesbian. I know lots of gay people.”

This was a longer version of Some of My Best Friends Are Gay than I’m used to hearing, but I nodded politely.

“Now I gotta ask you to take off those glasses and let me see those pretty eyes.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No? Aw, c’mon.”

“No, no. I don’t think it would be wise. I wouldn’t want to be responsible.”

Earlier in the evening, a guy came up to me at a party and announced, no word of a lie, that I was very attractive, but he didn’t think that I knew it.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I told him. “I know. This doesn’t happen by accident, you know.”

I don’t think he got the joke, because he kept on going.

“See, it’s those glasses. That’s how I can tell. They’re thicker than they need to be, like they’re saying ‘don’t look at me. I’m not pretty.'”

“Actually, they’re for your protection,” I said, slugging back half a glass of Bud. “Will you excuse me? I seem to be out of beer.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. Everyone likes to be told that they’re pretty. (Except guys, maybe. I’ve gotten one or two guys ril pissed at me by calling them pretty. “Handsome” is cool. “Hot” is better. “Pretty” is the verbal equivalent of freezing cold water.)

Anyway, the sudden obsession with my eyewear is very odd.

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11 thoughts on “When I Take Them Off, I Become Wonder Woman

  1. Girls, glasses, passes, asses enough already. You know it’s your chestichuclar abundance.

    And the attitude.

    Still puzzled. Dollar bills. Stapled. So “Full Metal Jacket.” Yet so “Tommy Toolshed.”

    –Taupey, Who, Sadly, Never Made Sense Of It All

  2. Quote ” “Pretty” is the verbal equivalent of freezing cold water.”

    The same goes for underwear. men wear underwear, ladies wear panties, I had an ex GF that could not grasp this.

  3. I guess you might have suggested that he didn’t think he was “adequate” because of the sock in his pants… No, then he’d be all excited that you looked at his crotch that he’d insist on you looking again.

    btw, found my way here thanks to CruiserMel. (thanks, Mel!)

  4. Ew, but “panties” is such a gross word. I cannot bring myself to say it. In my head, it sounds like “paaaaahhhnties,” like in the Victoria’s Secret commercials.

    How bout if I call them “funderwear”?

  5. I think your glasses are hot… like… Tina Fey Hot, but what do I know… I’m just one of the recently mentioned creepy married guys who you can’t get rid of.

  6. Heh. Well, now, now, Dr. Dave, don’t take it all personal-like. It’s just that you married fellas don’t do me much good, is all. Other than the admiration, which is always appreciated.

  7. The second guy sounds just like my roommate, except his sister AND his brother are gay, but he did run a gay club, and he seems to generally “like the gays”. He does not, however, staple money to his headwear.

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