I Dated a Mime.
I Dated a Mime
I dated a mime once. Blind date couple years ago.
Almost didn't see her. But then again, it's hard to miss a blonde girl
with white makeup on her face in a ridiculous French outfit
pretending she's in a box.
I knew it would be a long night when I asked what her name was.
She pointed to her eye and started to lean on me.
The whole night went on this way.
It was like playing charades all night.
And dammit, I hate charades!
I dated a mime once.
We went to some Italian joint for dinner.
I think she fancied something a little more French.
But French food and my stomach don't agree.
What a horrible night.
Took the waiter ten minutes to figure out she wanted spaghetti and meatballs.
Like her pretending to twirl spaghetti with a fork didn't give it away.
But instead of pointing to the menu like a normal mute or shy person, she just kept twirling.
I'm not even going to into how long it took to order tiramisu.
I dated a mime once.
And after dinner, once seemed like enough.
But the night was young.
I took her to the theater.
She wanted to see this snotty foreign film.
I wanted to say no, but how do you argue with a mime?
So we're in this theater, watching a movie with a man and woman jawing on and on in French
about some lovey dovey shit.
And I thought American romance was bad.
But something about it must've struck a chord with her.
Because one second she's miming a tear streaming down her face,
The next, I learn why they call it French kissing.
I made out with a mime once ... in the theater
...Then again when I dropped her off
She invited me up to her apartment.
Or at least that's what I think she meant when she pointed at me
while walking up imaginary steps.
I step into her place.
It's like stepping right into France itself.
I felt like I need a passport.
Pictures of the Eiffel Tower, Jacque Chirac, and Marcel Marsol on the walls.
Tray of baguettes on the table.
This girl wasn't just a mime.
She was the human embodiment of French stereotypes.
Except for the hairy armpits...
.....Thank God.
I slept with a mime once.
*Pause for shock factor*
We had a couple more dates
And within two weeks
I believed I found my Ms. Right.
I married a mime once.
We had a nice wedding in a cathedral
All my family showed up as did all of hers
Her father said he did not like me, and blew his cigarette smoke in my face
Typical French asshole
It took her awhile to recite her vows
Andwhat's worse, some of my relatives began laughing
as she mimed her love to me.
Our reception did not get any less awkward for my relatives
As her relatives all did an uncannily expert rendition of The Robot
to the tune of "Mr. Roboto".
Nonetheless, we were off to Paris for our honeymoon.
If you think I'm going to say
"I impregnated a mime once"
You would be wrong.
She stated she hated kids
(Imagine how that was mimed)
Anyhow, we get to Paris: City of Love.
Everything was grand.
Everything, that is, until we ran into her old flame,
Steve.
He was miming on a corner of the restaurant we were dining at.
I'm not sure what happened next.
I'm not sure if that was a mime's way of yelling,
But it was the most angry mime argument I had ever witnessed.
And from there, it only went downhill.
After we returned to America, our marriage quickly evaporated.
I divorced a mime once.
She had the audacity to tell me
"We don't talk enough".
Can you imagine that?
A mime telling me we don't talk enough.
That was only the tip of the iceberg.
In the heat of an argument
I told her Marcel Marsol was overrated.
She threw a book at me and pointed to the door.
I haven't seen her since our anullment.
But I bet she's back in Paris
Miming an orgasm for Steve.
-----------
This has been a random prose I wrote for writing class last year. Return to your lives, everyone.
I dated a mime once. Blind date couple years ago.
Almost didn't see her. But then again, it's hard to miss a blonde girl
with white makeup on her face in a ridiculous French outfit
pretending she's in a box.
I knew it would be a long night when I asked what her name was.
She pointed to her eye and started to lean on me.
The whole night went on this way.
It was like playing charades all night.
And dammit, I hate charades!
I dated a mime once.
We went to some Italian joint for dinner.
I think she fancied something a little more French.
But French food and my stomach don't agree.
What a horrible night.
Took the waiter ten minutes to figure out she wanted spaghetti and meatballs.
Like her pretending to twirl spaghetti with a fork didn't give it away.
But instead of pointing to the menu like a normal mute or shy person, she just kept twirling.
I'm not even going to into how long it took to order tiramisu.
I dated a mime once.
And after dinner, once seemed like enough.
But the night was young.
I took her to the theater.
She wanted to see this snotty foreign film.
I wanted to say no, but how do you argue with a mime?
So we're in this theater, watching a movie with a man and woman jawing on and on in French
about some lovey dovey shit.
And I thought American romance was bad.
But something about it must've struck a chord with her.
Because one second she's miming a tear streaming down her face,
The next, I learn why they call it French kissing.
I made out with a mime once ... in the theater
...Then again when I dropped her off
She invited me up to her apartment.
Or at least that's what I think she meant when she pointed at me
while walking up imaginary steps.
I step into her place.
It's like stepping right into France itself.
I felt like I need a passport.
Pictures of the Eiffel Tower, Jacque Chirac, and Marcel Marsol on the walls.
Tray of baguettes on the table.
This girl wasn't just a mime.
She was the human embodiment of French stereotypes.
Except for the hairy armpits...
.....Thank God.
I slept with a mime once.
*Pause for shock factor*
We had a couple more dates
And within two weeks
I believed I found my Ms. Right.
I married a mime once.
We had a nice wedding in a cathedral
All my family showed up as did all of hers
Her father said he did not like me, and blew his cigarette smoke in my face
Typical French asshole
It took her awhile to recite her vows
Andwhat's worse, some of my relatives began laughing
as she mimed her love to me.
Our reception did not get any less awkward for my relatives
As her relatives all did an uncannily expert rendition of The Robot
to the tune of "Mr. Roboto".
Nonetheless, we were off to Paris for our honeymoon.
If you think I'm going to say
"I impregnated a mime once"
You would be wrong.
She stated she hated kids
(Imagine how that was mimed)
Anyhow, we get to Paris: City of Love.
Everything was grand.
Everything, that is, until we ran into her old flame,
Steve.
He was miming on a corner of the restaurant we were dining at.
I'm not sure what happened next.
I'm not sure if that was a mime's way of yelling,
But it was the most angry mime argument I had ever witnessed.
And from there, it only went downhill.
After we returned to America, our marriage quickly evaporated.
I divorced a mime once.
She had the audacity to tell me
"We don't talk enough".
Can you imagine that?
A mime telling me we don't talk enough.
That was only the tip of the iceberg.
In the heat of an argument
I told her Marcel Marsol was overrated.
She threw a book at me and pointed to the door.
I haven't seen her since our anullment.
But I bet she's back in Paris
Miming an orgasm for Steve.
-----------
This has been a random prose I wrote for writing class last year. Return to your lives, everyone.