“She has a moustache”
That’s the very first thought that crossed my mind when I turned round to look at the lady Ranti was about to introduce me to.
As his girlfriend.
Ranti. Playboy, alpha-male, super-smart, Mr-money-aint-a-thing, Ranti.
Yes, that Ranti.
His new girlfriend has a moustache.
Her moustache had pedigree. I kid you not. Like, it would make a boy prepping for JAMB feel like the MacDaddy of his class year.
Tom Selleck would have been proud of her ‘stache.
Like, if you kissed her, it may tickle the tip of your nose (which isn’t bad, if you’re into that sort of thing)
Now the moustache in itself is not the problem. Nah-uh. Nope. Not at all.
The problem is the fact say na RANTI new babe be this.
Ranti o, guys. Ranti who dumped that faaaaiiine Omolara because her tshirt had sweaty pits the day he stopped by to see her at the gym…
Anyway, I hope this new Ranti lover (who he introduced to me as Mabel while I was thinking all these plenty things) didn’t notice that I kept staring at her mouth area throughout.
And if she did, I hope she thinks I’m just a perv who’s thinking of kissing her, or even better, that I’m into female lip beauty products and I’m wondering what she used to get this nice tone that sets off her moustache so delicately.
I mean, what the hell is wrong with Ranti?! Can’t he see she looks like her eyebrows came down to her uper lip for a sip of whatever drink she orders?
At this point, we’re seated and making small talk. We order our drinks whilst we wait for her friend, whom they’re obviously trying to set me up with (I hope to God in heaven that in this case, “birds of a mous…feather” doesn’t apply biko)
She’s talking and laughing but for the life of me, all I see is the ‘stache. I can’t get past it. I mean she’s pretty and all, and her laugh is cute.
But. That. Moustache.
I just can’t.
Mahn. I need to pull Ranti’s moustache to this attention. I mean, attention to this…ugh. You get my point.
Soon enough, she says she has to go get her friend from the lobby and I think to myself, “Aha! Finally, an opportunity to tell Ranti that I will fake a heart attack. Then we can get the hell outta here to a secure location so I can knock some sense into his head.”
Then Mabel gets up, and turns away from the table.
And I see her behind.
And for a moment, nothing else on earth matters.
And I get it right then;
Ranti is very well aware of the moustache.
But Ranti doesn’t care.
Because Ranti is also VERY well aware of the other entity Mabel is attached to.
I mean, what’s a few wisps of upper lip fur to a man in love with such awesomeness?
The man will be fine.
And so, I held my peace.
Peace, Light & SmallChops.