- Image by MiniTar via Flickr
The last person to shamelessly flirt with me in public was a young man in his early twenties. He was working in a shop and smiled at me, I smiled warmly back because he was very good looking and I felt very safe that he wasn’t hitting on me due to his age as well as mine, I was sorry my daughter wasn’t with me.
When he passed by me a second time, I wondered…when he moved to the check out counter with me, I really wondered. I had purchased an item in a large box and the young man grabbed the box as I paid for it. I told him I could carry it and he said, “I’m carrying it,” and walked to the door. After he loaded it into my car, I thanked him and he looked back at me from over his shoulder swept a glance from my shoes, over my skirt and up to my face then said, “come back sometime,” and walked away. It was the emotional equivalent of having a 6′2 twenty year old slap me on the bottom and my mouth fell open.
After joining the ranks of the tragic, dating singletons for the past 30 days I can say with with complete confidence that men of all ages make me feel old.
Men who are my age talk about dating women in their 30’s, always a blond Pilates instructor which leaves me wanting to squint my eyes across the table and say something like, “shut up, Daniel Cleaver” with a British accent, or toss my napkin across the table and say, “sod off.” On the opposite end invitations from men in their twenties makes me queasy because it would he like dating my son’s friends, a notion I find repellent. Which brings me to the subject of 35 year old men which I am in a quandary over. Even with many things in common I don’t want to be 12 years older because he undoubtedly, not only knows the blond, thirty-something Pilates instructor he also knows the Llama-eyed, 24 year old Yoga Master, with pink hair and a perky tush. It may make Anna Nicole Smith’s husband feel young to date a younger women but dating a younger man would just remind me how much older I am. It would remind me that I was playing spin the bottle when he was backstroking in amniotic fluid still tethered to his Mother.
This means my only other option is older men but as I grow older that prospect becomes increasingly frightening, even if I were to kick the tires I simply couldn’t bring myself to look under the hood. I’d rather die old, alone and half eaten by wild dogs.
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2 Comments
September 14, 2009 at 5:48 PM
OMFG! You are my twin!
Caught in that “middle” quandary … or between a rock and a geezer. Especially when you’d still rather run round the lawn naked and play in the paddling pool rather than dine on the blue-plate special then hit the hot tub because your knees are acting up.
Neither do I want to be a resident of Cougar Town (feeling like a fool because I’m old enough to be his mum-even though I’ve never had any sprog units of my own), nor do I want to do a summer rental in an old age pensioner’s home!
I’m a kid at heart! I don’t want to concede, I don’t want to be with some middle-age bore who would rather be with a pert 30-something because the 30-somethings I’d rather be with think I’m an old fart!
What’s a never-want-to-age-even-gracefully-but-prefer-not-to-make-a-fool-of-herself girl to do … yup … I’d rather die old and alone…
September 14, 2009 at 9:12 PM
Sister!!!
I love playing in the paddling pool and running around naked. Preferably at the same time!
Old, alone and half eaten by wild dogs…actually there was a bear spotted by my house.