You guys remember Fez? From “That 70’s Show”? He works at our favorite Mexican place, I swear. All tight black dress pants and tight black shirts, and pointy toed shoes and headful of thick, dark hair. Latin lover, except once he talks it kind of blows his whole game. (As usual, for Fez)
And also, he might be trying to steal my husband. Not on purpose, of course, but there’s something about him that makes J get hearts in his eyes and check him out like he’s a fine piece of art. Or a pork chop. Or Alicia Keys.
Last time we were there, Fez delivered our food, and after he left the table J had a dreamy look on his face and kind of raised his eyebrows and said, “Check out that guy”. Fez had stopped at another table and J motioned with his head.
This felt like a trick to me. I have never known J to want me to ogle any other guys, except maybe Kenny Rogers who must seem non-threatening but I’ve been holding that flame since I was seven so he’s more dangerous than you’d think.
I turned and looked at Fez. His black pants were all snugged up around his little butt, belt firmly in place, shirt was tucked in over his flat stomach. He was wearing what looked like very pointy black cowboy boots, and standing in a way that made you think that he thinks he looks good.
I turned around to J and shrugged, “He’s too young for me.”
“Look at him, though,” J said and I stopped a moment to frown at the dreamy look on his face, “tight pants, tucked in shirt,” and then, I am not kidding you, I think he went, “Mm.”
It still felt like a trick and I was not taking the bait. And anyway, Fez seemed to me like in trying to be so manly and male, he actually became a little bit feminine. (But in a manly way. Fez is a complicated soul)
Tonight, we were back at our same favorite Mexican place and who should make an appearance bearing no less than ten plates on his arms and an outfit similar to the first time, but Fez.
J waggled his eyebrows and watched Fez walk away.
“Um, do you have a crush on Fez?” I asked.
J got only a tiny wrinkle of a frown between his eyebrows before he said, “I don’t know,” and then he might have giggled a little (giggled!) “I guess…maybe.”
The next time Fez came out J pointed at something behind me and when I turned back around he was totally checking out Fez’s ass. He was making a joke, but also, he WAS checking out Fez’s ass.
I remember one time, out on the town with my girlfriends (back like at least a thousand years ago now), on a rare occasion when we had all brought our boyfriends, and my friend’s sister said to me in a kind of joking but not joking way,
“I think Ken’s going to leave me for George.”
George was my boyfriend at the time. He had a way with people. It was like real life Norm from “Cheers” when he walked into a bar where people knew him. (He also had a way with lying. He was a charmer, that one.) Sure enough, I looked over and there was Karen’s boyfriend Ken, sitting next to George, listening to him talk with a rapt expression and giggling at all his jokes.
“Well, he’ll have to fight me for him,” I responded, and then we left those two love birds alone and hit the dance floor.
There is a such thing, I am here to tell you, as a boy crush.
I’m not feeling too threatened by Fez, I don’t think J’s going to leave me for him. In fact, I find it fascinating and actually kind of cute. I think I could learn a thing or two from Fez about projecting self-confidence.
Just what are these magic powers that Fez has?
(And how can I get some of them?)