He’s “That” Guy


He sat there, looking miserable and judging everyone at the table.   He rolled his eyes and sighed when someone said something that he didn’t deem to be funny.      He made rude comments under his breath and looked out the window, giving us the back of his head as some unspoken demonstration of his boredom.   He was obviously having the worst time at this gathering of friends and aquaintances for tan engagement party, but he wouldn’t leave and could have left at any time.  

So, why didn’t he?  

Because he’s that guy who can’t be happy unless he’s miserable.   You know him and trust me,  to know him is to dislike him….a lot.   

He made a crass comment about someone’s weight.   It was rude and unwarranted.     What an absolutely lousy human being.

He is name is Bob and he came with Ellen, a former colleague of mine.   She’s known  his petulent ass for a while and told me a great deal about him, so knowing what I know about him, I couldn’t understand why he’d sit there in a social setting and be so rude.     Trust me, he has no room to talk.

Shall I share what I’ve learned about this man? 

Okay, Ellen told me that Bob is that guy who orders literally.    At Wendy’s he doesn’t ask the guy behind the counter for a cheeseburger.   Oh no, he makes it far more irritiating.   He orders  “a Wendy’s Hot and Juicy single with cheese”.

He gave his twin daughters the monickers of Brie and Brita.   One is named after soft cheese;  the other is can trace her ‘handle’  back to a water filter.

He’s a mouth breather.   

He’s that guy who calls jeans dungarees.

He often says when thirsty, that he’s in the mood “for a refreshing beverage”.

He wears short sleeve dress shirts even in the winter.

He owns one pair of shoes;  black atheltic-looking lace-ups  and he wears them regardless of the occasion.

And with brown suits. 

He leaves his ice tea spoon in his glass when he drinks from it, holding it aside with his fingers as opposed to removing it.

He refers to the “Show Me State” as Missoura–with an “A” at the end.   He sounds out the “S” in Illinois, too.

His response to bad news when it’s conveyed to him,  “Well, it could be worse.  You could have AIDS.”

For some unholy reason, Ellen will be marrying “that guy” Bob in a lavish wedding next month.  

Love is strange.    The heart and the mind must see two different versions of the same person.   I suppose all the platitudes apply– the heart loves who the heart loves and to each his own.   Who’s to say? 

Even so, I give them two years.  

Two and a half if she’s lucky enough to lapse into a coma.











  1. If he even had a collection of music would he call them his “jams”?


    Let’s make it worse. He’d call them his “fresh jamz”….with a “Z”.

  2. He sounds like the guy I would hit over the head with a cricket bat* after 10 minutes of exposure.


    *Something a bit like a baseball bat only wider and heavier.

  3. Hey Now; wait a minute…..
    I leave my stir spoon in my glass,too. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.
    And I say Missoura……
    (Begins to tremble violently: puts head in hands)
    Oh god, Mizz L! Am I gonna end up like…..that!?!?
    (Begins sobbing quietly)

    P.S. babychaos- that wouldn’t be one of those Douglas Adams bats with the grenade launchers & the lasers, would it?


    Why yes Greg…yes you will.

    Repent, then remove your spoon from your glass immediately. You’ll put an eye out if you don’t. PLUS…when you speak the proper nown, Missouri and end it with an “ah” sound and not the short “I” sound, then you good Sir are in dire need of a vowel movement.

    Good luck in prison,
    Mizz L

  4. The guy probably also uses these words or phrases:

    “at this point and time”
    “all’s I know is . . .”

And now, you may opine your ass off...

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