Party

His moustache drooped unnecessarily into his champagne as he supped and showed his appreciation for the party. He turned away and once he was sure she was no longer in eyesight he spat the champagne into a flower pot. Sadly his moustache went with it and Michael spent a furtive couple of minutes trying to dig around in the now wet soil, dry the moustache, find the glue in his inside pocket, reattach the moustache to his upper lip and wipe the soil off of his lapel with a linen napkin.

Once all of this was over with, Michael decided to mingle. He sidled up to a beautiful woman. On his way he picked up a glass of champagne and a glass of whisky from a passing tray. The woman looked impressed, made eye contact saying, “hello stranger”.

“I thought that you were supposed to say that to people that you knew that you haven’t seen in a while,” Michael said.
“You sure we haven’t met?”
“Looking as beautiful as you do, I’m pretty sure that I would have remembered you. Have we met?”
“No I was just fishing, fishing for complements.”
“Really?”
“Works every time”
“Well I feel such a sap now.”
“So are you going to give me that champagne or not?”
“Sorry, here you are, but I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”
“What champagne?”
“No that stuff specifically. It’s fucking awful as far as I can tell.”
“I don’t mind it. Don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you just because you don’t share the same taste in champagne as me. What an idea?”
“I just wondered if you were one of those guys… You know those guys who absolutely hold their own views. That they’re right all the time and if you don’t agree with them then you’re not just wrong then you’re actually stupid.”
“Going out with one of those guys?”
“Just dumped by one actually.”

Just then the music at the party changed pace from some kind of schmaltzy waltz to something a bit faster. Michael decided to pick his moment.

“Do you fancy a dance?”
“Why not. I like this song.”

She looked at him very closely for a second. And then chose to move in close to him so she was resting her hand lightly on his chest. “Can I ask you to take off your moustache though?”
“How did you know?”
“Well if it wasn’t for half the guys in here tonight wearing fake moustaches it would have been a pretty hard guess, but other than that there’s a lot of glue on you face.”
“And you still want me to take it off?”
“Yes please.”
“Spoil sport.”

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