Portrait of an Artist as a Faceless Man

I cracked the eggs and they trickled inside rubber.

Dear Faceless Painter,

For months we talked and have gotten to know each other well, though I never found out what you looked like and so, inspired by your profession as an artist, I had to use my creativity and think outside the box.  I had always imagined you to be this quiet, masculine artist who would spend hours a day finishing his masterpieces that sell for thousands of bucks.  You would probably be skinny, with a ponytail and lots of tattoos on your body; maybe a pierced lip or a nose ring aside from the ones you already have on your auricles.  You would be the type who smokes and drinks beer and occasionally sinks into depression, in order to pull out your personal greatest artistic achievements.  The stereotypical tormented artist.  Also, you appeared to me to be this deeply religious, guilt-filled person who, at age 29, remains firm in his belief that he is heterosexual. 

You told me you were "handsome on the inside" so I thought you were joking.  For the sake of entertaining that idea, I had imagined the night before we met, the people i would say, closely resemble the word "unattractive".  It would be untruthful for me to NOT say that you have exceeded my expectations the moment I saw you walk in through the door.  However, since I am a man of my word (and I do believe this was fate telling me to stop being stupid), I had no choice but to watch you walk in.  In slow motion.  

So dear Faceless Painter, I am telling you and the universe that this is the last time I will submit myself into such a deplorably flawed and hormonally-influenced decision-making process when it comes to dating.

All that put aside, you are a decent fellow.  You paid your fair share and you even treated me to breakfast (which you decided to cut short to maximize the remaining time).  I apologize for the spicy Korean food we ate for dinner, but I hope I more than made up for it afterwards with my "harlem shake".

I did enjoy you (in the dark).  You were eager to please and that somehow helped soothe the pain.  For someone with no prior experience with both sexes, I would say you've done far better than your predecessors.  In fact, one of the things you did was a first for me too!  What can I say?  That scolding I did had taught you well and you unwittingly made me your first practice dummy.  I'm sure your future wife would be satisfied with you.

But I honestly worry if you'd ever have a wife.  You are more on the softer side of masculinity and I think you enjoyed it too much, what we did.  I enjoyed it too, but of course I would've loved it more if it weren't you I shared a twin bed with.  As harsh as that sounds, I plan to write about such an encounter in a future post when I can prove to myself that my learning curve shall have improved for the better.

For now, I sincerely apologize if we left an hour short of your expectations.  The truth is, I couldn't bear the thought of you defacing me again with your slobbery kisses.  Or the thought that you borrowed my comb and then harmlessly mention having a dandruff problem.  (Thank god for detachable, foldable combs!)  

The truth is, I just couldn't bear the sight of you wearing your headband.  While we ate.  In public.  

Dear Faceless Painter, you have the potential to be a great lover, but I leave it to other people to, umm, tap that potential.

I wish you the best of both worlds, like I wish this regret to wash off my freakin' scalp.