Mallory the Batgirl

Standard

“They don’t have any Beatles wigs,” my friend Pierre said.  “We’ll have to buy these Korean woman wigs and trim them up or something.”

This seemed crazy to me.  I searched the Halloween shop frantically, afraid that my George Harrison costume would end up looking more like Kim Yu-Na in a black suit.  It was no use.  Korean Halloween costume shops apparently don’t stock Beatles wigs.  I handed the cashier my money and was quickly the proud owner of some rather fetching long black flowing hair.  Reminding myself that on Halloween it’s acceptable to look like an idiot, I tried to think optimistically.  Like a catchy plea, Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord” played in my head.  I took the wig out of the package, plopped it on my head, and immediately disagreed with Harrison.  Looking at myself in it, I knew there was no God.

Mallory the Batgirl also had long dark hair.  The difference, of course, was that hers was real and looked wonderful.  From the moment I saw her, I knew she was clearly out of my league.  And although I didn’t initially act as if she was, I eventually would come to my senses.  She had a blonde friend who stood by her side, dressed as Robin.  In reality, it’s only my firm belief in gender roles that casts her as “Batgirl.”  Mallory was supposed to be “Batman.”  But just as it’s impossible to accept George Harrison with hair like a geisha, it’s also impossible (for me at least) to accept a gorgeous young woman assuming a role that’s typically associated with George Clooney or Adam West.  I met Mallory on Halloween night, lost on the street, searching for the same party.

“Are you guys supposed to be the Beatles?” she asked me and Pierre.  “The wigs are a little off.”  I explained about the costume shop, and recounted how my friend Brigitte trimmed my wig with scissors on the subway platform.  The Koreans stood in a great circle around us and watched.  They didn’t look happy.  For a moment I feared George Harrison was about to experience his second stabbing incident.

At the party, everyone was in costume.  There was Ronald McDonald and Michael Jackson and a group of girls dressed like a row of dominos.  Time passed and I ran into Mallory again, now as drunk as her Batgirl costume was tight.  We talked and made jokes.  She put my wig on.  Then – in an entirely unexpected turn of events – she leaned over and kissed me.  It was astonishing, and she touched my real hair as we started to make out.  Our little moment didn’t last long, and Robin didn’t look too pleased with her friend.  “I have to go,” Mallory said, and we exchanged numbers.  “I’ll call you,” I yelled as Robin dragged her away.

At some point in the night, I lost my wig.  It didn’t matter because Halloween was over.  Back at my apartment in the early days of November, Mallory and I exchanged a few text messages.  Then I paused and thought about things.  The costume was off now, and I was back to being a divorced 32-year-old man.  I didn’t have money like the Beatles did, and girls don’t scream in excitement when they see me.  I thought about Mallory, who was back to being in her early twenties and beautiful and in a new country.  Completely free.  With long hair and so much time.  Years.  We could spend some of that time together, right, or would that make her feel like a kid who holds out a Halloween basket, wanting something sweet, and gets a roll of pennies?

I closed the phone and didn’t text again.

*

About these ads

7 thoughts on “Mallory the Batgirl

  1. anonymous

    This is so sad and so sweet and so considerate. I don’t have enough experience to give you advice on what to do. I would like to say that you should see what happens with Mallory despite your differences, that love is unconditional and all that jazz, but at the same time I can see the reasoning in your reality. Either way, you seem like a thoughtful and sweet guy with a great personality and I’m sure you’ll find someone who can appreciate and relate to you and is more suited to you soon.

    Thanks for the laughs and for the hope that there’s guys like you out there,

    anonymous

  2. anonymous

    Thanks, I’ve been reading your posts whenever I get a chance. I write too sometimes and have a joke of a blog, it would be amateur blog work compared to your writing, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if I added you as a reader and you could check out and tell me what you think. It’s a whole different perspective on the world from a completely different place and stage of life, but….

  3. anonymous

    Would it be alright if I sent you a few posts to your email?

    I won’t spam your email or keep sending posts to it, it’s a private blog, that’s the only reason why.

  4. I was trying to imagine you looking like Kim Yu Na instead of George Harrison haha and Im sorry, I can’t help but laugh.
    Anyway, let’s go to the real topic. I have dated a man 10 years older than me. At first, I liked the idea. He’s sweet and thoughtful and caring. I am the eldest in the family so I had the responsibility of always taking care of my siblings. So maybe, just maybe, I have seen with this man the caring I have been longing for. However, after a while, I realized we were completely in a different world. Most of the time I can’t relate to his topics of conversation because we belong to different generation. Another thing is, I noticed people around us looking whenever we’re eating out. What I can see in other people’s eyes is that I am a gold digger, or looking for a sugar daddy. I don’t know if he even noticed. If he did, maybe he ignored or didn’t care at all. After thinking things over, I decided to end things between us. I don’t feel comfortable and I don’t want to be in a relationship where I don’t feel comfortable. Well, in the end, he made things easier for me and my conscience when he admitted he’s already married with 4 kids.
    Another example is my aunt. Well, my aunt married a man older than my grandfather. My grandpa don’t know whether to call the man son or big brother. But things worked for them. They were married until the man died and left alone was my aunt drowning herself in alcohol. I think if you really like each other/love each other despite the age gap, it is possible to have a lasting relationship. This post is already a year old so I don’t know if my comment still makes sense. Hehe…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s