I swear he can't be more than 10 years younger than me. I see him about twice a week, and we work well together. Because of his industry and his job, he shows up in band t-shirts and jeans, and has pierced ears, and it doesn't matter. I talk into the camera, read into the microphone, and we're done.
"I like your outfit," he said today as he was putting stuff away.
"Oh," I said, a little taken aback, especially because I'd been busy all day with hating the shirt I was wearing.
"Yeah, it looks good," he said, and I swear I heard him formulate the words in his mind before he said them. "It looks like something my mom would wear."
"Ah hm," I said, narrowing my eyes.
"But no, that's a good thing," he said artlessly. "My mom is really stylish."
"Ah...hmmmmmmm," I said, feeling dangerous.
I recounted the story to Matt on the phone as I drove home.
"Well, you know what he was really saying, don't you?" he said helpfully. " 'You're not wearing an appliqued sweatshirt. Good for you!' "