Andy: Man of Mystery

That’s enough weirdity for one day. Let’s get back into the blog properly.

I had a conversation with a friend recently at the pub, and eventually – thanks to being about 5 pints deep into drunkenness - we got onto the subject of traits that are attractive in a prospective mate.

One word that seemed to feature quite greatly was the word “mystery”.

Yes, I like women to have a mystique about them, however I do wonder whether there is some kind of bunny-boiling tendencies that should be clarified prior to striking up any conversation. However, she was of the opinion that men who carry a certain air of mystery are extremely appealing, and she is often drawn to them like a mosquito to a bug-zapper.

Well, she used the much more romantic term “Moth to a lamp” but going from tales of her previous destructive relationships, I think my analogy is more apt. Besides, it has more panache and is less cliche.

After further discussion with her, pertaining to what made these men much more mysterious, I have devised a formula that can calculate a man’s level of mystery:

Mystery = Length of jacket.

For example:

A non-mysterious man, courtesy of Deirdre of London

A mysterious man, courtesy of some movie…

So, if my formula proves correct, then I’m afraid that I’m doomed. The last time I checked, I wasn’t a poorly realised effigy from a crap movie.

But if it’s the whole broodiness thing, then I can do that. Quite easily. I can wear sunglasses, strut around like I own the joint, and say “woah” at certain intervals – with some prompting, I’m sure.

So, a conversation in a bar would go something along of the lines of:

Me: “Hi”

Pretty girl: “Hi! Nice jacket…”

Me: “Would you believe there is no jacket?”

Pretty girl: “Huh?”

Me: “I don’t believe in fate, you know.”

Pretty girl: “Most guys just want to buy me a drink.”

Me: “I will, but only because I want to be assured that I’m in control of my own fate”

Pretty girl: “Look my boyfriend is just over there” (gestures to empty wall)

Me: “There is no spoon, either, you know.”

Pretty girl: “Get away from me, freak.”

Me: “But… the jacket… mystery, and all that… jazz.”

Pretty girl: “I know security here, and they’ll rearrange your face.” (walks off)

*pause*

Me: “… woah…”

Hoho, I’m so there! I’ll never be bored in a bar again!

(I apologise to those who have never seen "The Matrix")