I’m currently out. And a moment ago, I was at my favourite coffee shop. Wonderful, I thought, whilst queuing. I’ll use this opportunity to check tumblr.
And that my friends…
Was a critical error.
Because as I was smiling at the latest in the series of AJCO pin ups in the queue - what I neglected to realise what there was an extremely tall man behind me. And he was smiling too.
Because he could see what was on my phone.
It was then he decided to lean forward and whisper ‘At least he’s got his trousers on.’
Heroically, at this point, I finish reblogging the picture. There are tears in my eyes. But I’m also grinning. Overall, I look deranged.
What follows is four whole minutes of unbearable queuing with the man at my back - who I can’t bring myself to look at.
Because friends, I know.
I know, on some deep, instinctual - maybe even genetic - level - that this man will bear a resemblance to Breyos.
I get to the counter. Fumble a few pounds. One rolls away on the floor. At this point, I can’t physically be more embarrassed. I’m over capacity. I reach a zen-like state. Become one with the shame.
It’s then I steal a glance at the man.
Facial hair. Overly tall. One squinty eye. Yes. Could be Breyos’ brother. I’m cursing the universe. But I’m also applauding its skilful weaving of events. We’ve reached sitcom levels of believability.
He smiles at me knowingly.
So where am I now? Not in my favourite coffee shop. No. I ordered a takeaway - despite the fact it’s extremely cold and windy outside. I’m sitting on a cold iron bench on the other side of the city - recounting this story - which has a moral.
And the moral is never, ever, look at half-naked Breyos Vesalius.