Hello, Would You Please Take Your Shirt Off?

Sam and I had dinner at Jennifer’s house last night. Once the wine was poured and the conversation began to flow, she interrupted us with her delightfully twangy Mississippi accent, “Oh, before I forget, and before he gets back from the store – I sent him out for bread – I have this guy staying here for a couple of weeks. His name is Flo… short for Florent. He’s this hot, straight, French soccer player, and ice skater, and his body is flawless. I mean he’s an athlete and all, but he’s also 23, because you know, there’s everything you can do to have a great body,” she said fluttering her hand over her midsection, “and then there’s 23.”

No sooner had she resumed her recounting how her apartment is haunted by either Norma Talmadge or Norma’s housekeeper, who lived in her place in the 30s and is keen to slam the kitchen cupboards in the middle of the night, then the door opened, and in walked Flo.

“Flo, these are my friends, Sam and Bronson,” she said gesturing southernly once again, as we shook hands. Flo was wearing a t-shirt, jeans and flip flops. Nice feet, especially for a soccer player. He’s about 5-foot-6, as lean as a skinned cat, and no more than a buck-thirty-five, soaking wet. (I am sure of this. I imagined him soaking wet.)

“Hello,” said Sam, shaking Flo’s hand, “Would you take your shirt off?”

You gotta love Sam.

Flo looked at us all laughing at Sam’s candor, and just grinned. Then, a second later, being 23, his shirt was off.

Vive la France! Under his shirt was the stuff of underwear advertising. Cinnamon skin, smooth and taut over wide, flat pecs and six little abdominal hills and valleys, disappeared (seemingly uninterrupted by briefs) into denim held up by soccer/skating-trained butt (not that I noticed his butt). Flo looked down at his abs, and gave us a flex and a big smile. Yep. 23.

Over dinner, we got to know Flo a little better. “So, where y’all from?” he said in his heavy French accent, – “Y’all” – because he’s spent most of his time stateside in the deep south. We talked for a minute about the necessity of “y’all”, and “yous guys” as a part of language that English is just kind of missing. It seemed perfectly logical to him. Like he needed to be any cuter.

We learned that along with single digit body fat, four romance languages, and a sense of humor and humility, comes an MBA from an American school, and a freedom and willingness to follow those skills and gifts wherever they might take him. And I’m sure they’ll take him far.

“You know, just because I have an athletic background doesn’t mean that I want to stay in that field,” he said, “I’m open to opportunities.”

To be 23 again: fresh out of college, and fresh to the world. But then, there’s everything I’ve learned and earned, in 40 years (not to mention, finding Sam) that I just wouldn’t trade for anything – not even to be 23 with a body like that.

So, if anyone’s looking for a multi-lingual MBA who’s also easy on the eyes and ears… Flo is your man.

3 Responses to “Hello, Would You Please Take Your Shirt Off?”

  1. Wednesday, May 28, 2008 at 7:43 pm

    OMG! If I were 5 minutes younger…I wouldn’t even spit out his teeth!

  2. Thursday, June 5, 2008 at 8:08 pm

    Its funny, as a man who is about to leave his twenties behind, I’ve thought a lot about this lately. I’ve worked with the elderly and with children. I have a big family that runs the whole age spectrum and I’m not where I thought I would be at this age…but I am happy. In all my years, I can truly say that the secret of life is about being happy and enjoying life. At 23, I was still the man I would become six years later with minor tweaks happening since then but I wouldn’t trade who I am now for anything (and guarantee that I will say the same thing at 40 and at 80!) My momma always taught me to look forward, not back and although I wouldn’t mind his hot 23 year old torso, I am happy with my own…that is probably the Biggest difference between me now and me at 23!

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