Right or wrong? Right, yes, yes, yes! No, wrong. I don't know, I'm confused. I shouldn't be attracted to this, but I am. A woman with a moustache, a woman with a moustache tattooed on her finger no less.
No, no, no, this is not a new thing, it has been happening since the age of 13 or so when I started to discover girls and women with those ever so lovely and slight moustaches. Oh yes, there is of course my grandmother's. That prickly tickle that I felt when we greeted each other with that quick little stiff-lipped smack. But that is not what I'm talking about really.
I'm talking about that lovely little growth of light silky hair, a velvet shadow if you will, on the upper lip, labia in Latin, of those lovely ethnic girls that I seemed to be attracted to ever since thumbing through the Polynesian issue of National Geographic as a youth. But as girls will do, they turn into women, women with access to women's magazines that tell them that hair must go! These same women then have access to waxing, threading and lasers that will remove what they now believe to be a masculine trait that is unattractive to the other sex. Rubbish I say, rubbish!
Until today, all I had to titillate this ungodly attraction would be shopping trips in Manhattan with Natasha where I would become overwhelmed as we walked past the shop girls sporting their field of silky wisps lip hair as they shouted "next"! Now there is our friend J.T. (formerly J.W.) with her freshly tattooed on again, off again finger-stache to tease and confuse me further. Just look at that slight upturn of the finely groomed Zapata, it's killing me. All I can say is that it takes big balls to be a real woman like J.T. Her man T.T. couldn't be luckier. Natasha, are you reading this, is there an Errol Flynn, Chaplin or Selleck in our future?