Mirror, Mirror

“Uh. You’re very excited. I like that.”

No. Cooler. He caresses his carefully amassed stubble. Straightens his collar. Lifts his upper lip and checks his teeth in the mirror. No bits of spinach stuck in odd places. Good.

“You remind me of my … of my …” All he can think of are female relatives. Scratch that.

Hair looks okay, moustache trimmed. ‘Suave’, he thinks, would be no misnomer. He just has to figure out what will come out of his mouth. It’s a problem.

“That’s a nice purse. What do you have in there? Mace?”

Dingy bathrooms are not a good place for a pep talk, but he tries.

“You, my boy, are the master of the evening. The ladies …” He pauses. “… love you. This one will too.”

He has built up an image over a year. Tonight is the time for words.

“Would you like to come over to my place? I have some very good condoms.” Okay. That was fine. No, hold on. Coffee!

Shit.

“You bastard,” he says to the mirror.