In high school, during show choir practice, my friend Ann and I would often find ourselves commiserating over the behavior of the average 17 year old male. They were conversations often laced with much frustration. To make ourselves feel better, and give us some hope, we created a nice guy out of Sharpie. And probably based on the fact that we'd seen one too many Fred Astaire movies, he was rather charming, dressed like a gentleman, and could tap dance:
Since we were more concerned with character than looks, he didn't get a body. We named him "The Invisible Man" for two reasons, one being obvious: he was invisible. And two: he filled the invisble space in our hearts waiting for respectable male companionship.
Well, a decade plus a few odd years later, The Invisble Man has returned to send birthday congratulations on Ann's 30th. He also congratulates us both on eventually marrying wonderful men, even though he is somewhat taken aback that neither of them tap dance.
