Every Sunday night, I cull through the many mullets I have clogging my hard drive and search for more on the internet. "I've got to find a great mullet," I think to myself. Today, I wondered what the hell makes a mullet a "great" mullet? Is the more horribly true to form mullet is great? Or is the mullet in certain circumstances that is great? Really, is it the man, the mullet or where the man and the mullet are that makes a mullet photo a Monday Mullet?
Looking up at today's choice, I think I see all three in play. This mullet is some kind of 'swooping, faux-Romantic, come hither 'do' and the man sporting it certainly seems to feel it enhances whatever he's trying to communicate. Which, if my guess is correct, is "all women want to fuck me."
I've seen guys like this in bars, doing the 'lean on elbow then glance in smoky manner over the shoulder to lock eyes with you in a smoldering way' as his lips curve in a smile and his hand reaches back to make sure there's a condom in his wallet. He irons his underwear and his shoes are prettier than mine. I don't like that. He has two closets full of clothes and has no room for a woman with closet needs of her own.
But, it wouldn't make it that far. As his hair drifted seductively onto his face as he trotted out lines from the rolodex of clever remarks in his mind, I would be laughing my ass off and looking for a friend to hide behind as I fell into hysteria.
I like my men a little rough, darkly funny and repelled by the thought of wearing velvet on any day but Halloween.