Dear That Guy

14 Sep

Dear That Guy,

Yeah, you.  The one taking a self-portrait using a hand mirror on a porch at 10:00 on a Tuesday morning.  Here, let me help you identify yourself:

Portrait of a Self-Portrait of a Young Man

(Now let’s take a moment to appreciate what a voyeuristic image this is.  Call me a creeper if you want, but I was just sitting here writing poetry, talking to my sister on gchat, when aforementioned young man appeared.  Was my camera on hand? No.  It was in the other room.  How long did it take for me to notice him?  A while, I was looking at Facebook, too.  How much longer before I decided to go get my camera?  Enough time for him to go inside, take his tank top off, and come back out to try it again.  Final count? He spent so long doing this he was practically begging someone to set up a full studio light and put together a portfolio.)  (And yes, I’m sad I missed the tank top shot.)  (Nothing like a good picture of a man in a tank top…)  (Men: don’t wear tank tops.)

Anyway, sweet, why don’t you get your model boyfriend to take this picture?  The one that was blasting Rihanna and Gaga at one o’clock in the morning last night and that last week left an apology note written on index cards tacked on the neighbor’s screen door? (Final card count: 8.  Number of times he mentions being raised by a single mother? 3.  Why?  Who knows?  The neighbor is not a single mother.  Nor was she the one who complained.  In fact, that may have been the only night no one complained.)

Or hey, if you’re lucky enough to find this beautiful portrait on the interwebs, go ahead and take it for your profile picture.  Happy to help in exchange for the moment of joy (aka hilarity) you’ve given me this morning.

Best,

MM

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