When I call my friend, the name that comes up on his phone is Hat Guy. 

I guess that was his first impression me, the hat on my head. 

I’m wearing that hat right now in fact, so I guess it makes sense. It’s the hat I was married in—a flat cap that fits so well. It’s not the first flat cap I've owned but it’s the best one I’ve ever had. 

When it’s raining I’m likely to wear a hood, but there’s a good chance you'll find a hat underneath it.

You might say I wear many hats: I’ve got a day hat and a night hat, a hot hat and a cold hat, a cap I can sleep in but not one for the shower. For I am bald and take baths. 

I take my hat off when I eat and when I go inside some places. 

The hat's off when I ride my bike because I wear a helmet, see. But I have a rack on the front of my handle bars made for, above all things, a hat.

Maggie and I have matching hats that we wear when we go to baseball games. 

She cuts felt out and sews logos on to two, generic navy blue adjustable hats. So no matter who is playing we're representing the home team.

I have but one head and will for the rest of my life! And it often has a hat atop it. 

I guess what I'm saying, my friend, is that you could call me a hat guy—when I call you that is.