Monday, July 09, 2007

the male (mail) man

Let me tell you a little bit about a problem I'm having with my mailman. It might not interest you but it's probably more interesting than talking about the bar exam.


I'm afraid that my mail man is in love with me. Or at least he has a thing for me. Let me tell you a little bit about my mail man before I tell you why I'm afraid he has a crush on me. My mail man is a short, muscular 40-ish Cuban guy who is, well, how should I put this...he looks like he's straight out of central casting. He's as flaming as they come (disclaimer: this is not an anti-gay post; I'm in no way homophobic or afraid of or against gay people). Anyway, he wears his standard U.S. Postal Service uniform but he's managed to customize it to fit his uh, stereotype. I don't know much about fashion but his shorts are way, way too short. They are not standard issue. In fact, it's like he got them altered so it looks like he's wearing a U.S. Postal Service issued speedo. Or not quite the speedo but you know thos super short, tight shorts that men generally don't wear but 19-year-old girls wear? Well that's what his look like. And he wears the shirt with the top three or four buttons unbuttoned. So it's basically buttoned on only one or two buttons and his entire chest is visible. For all intents and purposes, he's naked. It's not pretty. He looks like the gayest mailman of all mailmen. Which isn't a problem for me but, well, I'm happily married so I'm not interested. As I said, he's straight out of central casting as if they'd ordered up a flamboyant gay mailman.





While studying for the bar exam I'm usually at home during the afternoon studying. I guess he's lonely or bored or something so he occasionally rings the doorbell to give me my mail. He pretends he's asking a question about our magazines because I once had to complain to him and filed a complaint on the web site about how how Sports Illustrated never showed up on time and he did a good job of feigning concern. But that was resolved about six months ago and he still finds the need to ask me about it once or twice a week. Even though he's the one delivering it (almost always on time since we resolved the issue). So that's no big deal, right? That doesn't lead you to think he's in love with me.





But it gets better. Sometimes when I'm home by myself sitting at the kitchen table doing practice questions I have my shirt off. I know, I know, this is probably a little too much information for you but it's my house and no one is around so if I want to study with my shirt off, I will. Look, I promise I'll keep my shirt on during the actual exam. Really. So sometimes when I'm in the middle of studying I answer the door with my shirt off. Why bother putting it on? It's either the mailman or on rare occasions the UPS or FedEx guy. This isn't a sitcom and I don't live in an apartment building full of fellow law students so I never get unannounced visitors at my house.





So a few weeks ago I did what I just described above: opened the door with my shirt off. Not only did the mailman just stare at me for a full thre or four seconds before blinking three or four times and saying in a bizarre sing-song way, "Helloooooooooooooooooo." I didn't think much of it although it literally sounded like the hello you would see a character give if he was playing a gay character on a Saturday Night Live skit or something.





But the other day he rang the doorbell to ask if we were moving out because we filed change of address forms that are supposed to take effect in August. This time he shirt was COMPLETELY UNBUTTONED with no t-shirt on underneath and he had a flower (a daisy? a pansy? I don't know my flowers too well) in his ear. So I'm talking to him and he's staring at my chest and I can't help staring at the flower tucked into his ear. I didn't say a word about it though. After the conversation about the address change, he gently touches me on the arm and starts into this long speech about how the flower makes him feel better about himself and has the added bonus of keeping bugs away.





Um, what? Ok. Sure buddy.





Ok, so maybe he's not in love with me but he's definitely trying to flirt with me. I think I'll keep my shirt by the door and if the doorbell rings while I'm studying, I'll put it on. The last thing I need is a suddenly jealous or vengeful mailman coming after me while studying for the bar.

9 Comments:

At 12:23 PM, Blogger The Detective said...

Are you going to love him back? LOL

 
At 12:34 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I envision this as an episode of Seinfeld where you are George and you're sitting in the diner telling Jerry about your gay mailman (not that there's anything wrong with that).

 
At 12:58 PM, Blogger christina said...

hmmm ... sounds like you're leading him on, mr. sweaty chest-no shirt-sports illustrated reading-bar exam studier.

this is the funniest post.

 
At 5:19 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

lol, anon 12:34 the only way it could get better is if the mailman 'accidentally' left some half naked pictures of himself in the next issue of sports illustrated. remember the episode with george and the gay photo center guy?

 
At 7:24 PM, Blogger The Grand Poobah said...

Sounds like IIED to me. But then there's that federal tort immunity thing.

Hey, maybe you could ask for a new letter carrier. Tell them you need relief from a Federal Tart!

Then again, maybe he's Superbee and he's figured out you mentioned him on your blog!

 
At 8:05 PM, Blogger Liney said...

At least you know you still got it, and studying for the bar hasn't rendered you a fat, acne ridden, pale monster haha! Even if you're married, good to know you still got it.

 
At 10:49 AM, Blogger some guy said...

federal tarts - nice!

 
At 5:03 PM, Blogger Vert said...

This is your greatest post ever. LMAO. The mailman has Reno 911 shorts...ROTFL

 
At 5:12 PM, Blogger SuperBee said...

Jigga wha? I ::promise:: I'm not your gay mailman. I'm simply not gay enough, and while we're at it, it's a real problem. Even the gays don't know I'm gay - do you know what it's like having to come out to your OWN PEOPLE!?

Meh. I'm not the gay mailman. Although, I wish I had a job where I could prance around in Daisy Dukes, Agador-Spartacusing all the stops on my route. It'd be a damn sight better than being chained to a desk hating life.

But yes. Your mailman has a thing for you. Why don't you... you know... not answer the door?

Just a thought.

 

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