A couple of weeks ago, I finally met Striped Legs (or “Stripey”) on my bike ride into work. We chatted, as two fellow cyclists do, grumbling about the traffic and the weather. I told her that I called her “Stripey” and she seemed to find that quite funny and said that most people called her Louisa (not to be confused with The Girl Who Talks About My Shorts, who is a Louise).
I spoke to Stripey again this morning. “I was thinking about you this morning”, she said. “Ah, that’s quite common, actually…” I replied, mischievously. She laughed, possibly slightly too much. She explained that she had been trying to figure out how she had been mentally referring to me, prior to us meeting. The only distinctive thing she had come up with was that she always noted the wing mirror on my bike. She told me that she had decided I was “The Mirror Man”. I nodded with approval at this. “Just like the Human League song, then?”, I said. She looked completely blank. Perhaps she’s not quite as old as me, then.
So there you go: I am … The Mirror Man.