Chapter Two - *Ben

“Ben” was the second guy to “chat me up.”  My guard was a little up after the “Mr. Trailer” incident, so I decided I needed to stay on my toes, and keep my toes a little further from home too.  He seemed nice.  He had recently relocated from the Midwest, owned his own business, and had a dog.  During the course of our conversations we realized we had people and places in common too.  Plus, he played hockey which instantly reminded me of all the nice boys I grew up with.  (This is stated slightly tongue in cheek, but it really does evoke some kind of wholesome feeling for me.  I’m from the Midwest – what can I say?)  He seemed safe.  Like he would be a decent guy to try to eventually kiss after only kissing my ex-husband for the past 7 years.

We decided to meet at a coffee shop.

The first things I noticed were his kinda nice smile, and his somewhat abnormally large head.  “I can live with the big head for the moment” I thought to myself.  I needed practice runs to get back into the swing of things after being off the “market” for so long, and Ben seemed like a good candidate.  We began “pseudo-dating.”  By this term, what I mean is that I would make it very clear to any man I was seeing that I was in no way looking for any kind of serious relationship.  I am blunt by nature and have grown extremely comfortable in my skin through the years, which I think may be a bit unsettling for many men.

“I don’t want a boyfriend Ben” I would say after he had come over unannounced for the second time that day.  “You’re just scared” he would say.  “No.  I just really don’t want you to be my boyfriend Ben.  You need to leave now.” 

The day I decided I needed to make out with him so I could practice kissing other people (which sounds kind of horrible saying now, but whatever,)  I told my best pal AJ that my plan was to drink some wine and see what happened.  I may have even told her: “I think I’m going to make out with big head tonight!”

So the evening came, we went out to dinner, I drank wine, we came back to my house, I drank more wine.  I remembered that there was half of a joint I’d stuck in my dresser drawer that a friend had left at my house, snuck into my bathroom and smoked it.  Not being much of a drinker these days or a stoner for that matter, to say I was “buzzed” is probably a bit of an understatement.  We started play wrestling around a little bit then I straddled him, facing him, on the couch.  We were kissing and I started running my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair.

Okay, I need to stop here and point out some things about my personality that will help you understand what was about to happen.  I tend to be a somewhat flamboyant person.  My eyes get huge when I talk, I throw my arms around and exude life with my entire being.  I’m a bit dramatic...  If I’m happy, mad, sad, excited or bored; everyone within a one mile radius will know about it.  So keep reading now with that understanding...

Like I was saying; we were kissing as I ran my hands through his hair, when suddenly; I hit a ridge on his head with both of my hands simultaneously.

I sprang backwards like a cat while pulling my hands off his head like they’d been scalded.  “What the fuck IS that Ben??!!” I screeched my eyes as big as the moon. 

“What does it feel like S?” Ben asked.  “I don’t know!  You had a fucking lobotomy?  You were scalped by natives?  What the fuck is it Ben???”   

Please keep in mind dear readers that I was not only drunk, but stoned for the first time in ages too, and all I could think of was that old Wayans Brother’s movie with the chick that keeps pulling fake body parts off when he wants to sleep with her.

“It’s not mine S.” 

Screeeeeeeech.  Hold the phone.  Did he REALLY just say that to me?  This Midwestern man on my couch who just an hour earlier had taken part in a conversation with moi about the shallowness of unnecessary plastic surgery, etc.?  Seriously?  Is this my life???

“What the fuck are you talking about?  It’s not real?  Oh my God Ben!  Let’s just go shave that shit off right now!” 

I was trying really hard at that point to keep my composure.   

“I really wouldn’t look good bald.  I have kind of a big head.”   

Well how the hell could I argue with that?  His head wasn’t big – it was ginormous!  We called him Big Head Ben behind his back for cripes sake.  I could hardly contain myself waiting for him to leave so I could call AJ and tell her all about it, which he finally did.

Every toupee question I’d ever wondered was spinning through my head...  How was it attached?  Did he wear it in the shower?  What was it made from?  Did it cause head cheese?  Did he go to a special toupee store to have it fitted?  Had it ever been pulled or blown off?  Was it glued down?  Did he have longer models for winter?  Was his barber who cut the bottom ring of real hair in on it?  So many questions...

I kept seeing Ben for just a little while.  Mostly because I was then in the position where I didn’t want to look like a shallow dick for dumping someone with a toupee whom I’d most likely scarred for life with my cat leap freak out session. 

I was sitting on my steps one day talking to AJ on the phone when he pulled up at my house.  He got out and I winced.  He had on shorts, socks and Tevas.  He had the skinniest white ankles I think I’ve ever seen on a man.  And yes – I said socks AND sandals.  On top of the skinny ankled body, perched the enormous, toupee covered head.

“I’m working Ben.  You can’t come over without calling.”  I told him.  He left.  I got back on the phone with AJ.  “Dude.  What the fuck?  Where am I?  How did THIS become my life?  I used to date rock stars and models and I’m dating a rug wearing, big headed man who wears socks with sandals!  What’s next – fucking sock garters??!!”  AJ laughed.  We laughed a lot back then.  There were some doozies...

Breaking it with Ben was harder than I thought it would be.  He was convinced that I was “just scared,” and stuck to me like his well worn hair piece.  In the end though I finally got him to leave me the hell alone.

A few years later, I ran into him at the post office.  Z was with me and when we got into the car he said “Ben’s hair looks a lot longer.”  I peed my pants and snorted at the same time.  “What’s so funny about that mom?”  He asked.  “Someday I’ll tell you love.  Hey look!  A squirrel!”  And just like that, it was done.

Adios big head!
* Some names have been changed to protect the innocent and/or guilty.

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It Started With A Wink... by Msss. Bonaca Jive is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.