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Online dating became exasperating. The real proof of that was when I pulled my profile even though I had to continue to pay for it for two more months; it just wasn’t worth seeing that same rotation of hiking, grilling, great outdoorsman with stellar senses of humor continue to taunt me, day after day, week after week!
I had decided I ‘d try it “old school”—just talk to men in bars and restaurants like the old days—and see how that worked in 2011.
It did. Almost too well.
I went to Sweetwater Bar and Restaurant hoping to chat some folks up for this column, and ended up in conversation with a charming young lawyer. It wasn’t—I swear!—until we were standing outside on the sidewalk, having both eaten at the bar, that I realized he’s timed his exit to coincide with mine.
I can’t remember the entire exchange, which I began entirely speechless, but I do know at one point I managed to blurt out, “You know I’m old, right?”
He did. But we spent a couple of lovely hours not dwelling on it. I did not go home with him, nor vice versa, because he’s 29. I’m looking for a relationship. He is younger than my older son.
One of my male admirers has become obsessed with this encounter, and continues to bring it up, long after it has lost its interest in my life.
“Have you heard from him?” he asks.
“Are you kidding?” I respond.
“He seemed pretty interested at the time,” he presses.
“And then what?” I play through, “I was going to have his children? I think not.”
This is one of those cases where if the shoe was on the other foot, the foot would be feeling pretty cozy!
A few weeks later, sitting on the patio at R15, a really hot guy, say mid to late 20’s hanging out with a friend starts chatting with me. He buys me a drink while I’m waiting for my date to show up (I was uncharacteristically early) and his friend was inside hitting on a bachelorette party.
He asked if I lived nearby. Just then I saw the guy I knew must be my date walking toward the door and waved at him.
“Why,” I say, returning my attention to Hot Patio Guy, “Do you ask?”
“You just have a Midtown vibe about you. Most women I see down here really don’t.”
My date arrives at the table with a portable oxygen tank. Timing is everything.
Fast-forward to this past week. I posted the following on my Facebook status:
Tonight I get hit on in the Walmart parking lot by a guy in his twenties selling bootleg (or just plain hot) DVDs and CDs who told me "Seriously, you have hella hot a**!" Forties are not only fabulous, if you shop at Walmart, they're a little freaky!
I am coming to terms with the fact that I give off some sort of amusing Cougar energy. Flattering, but unproductive in my world. But flattering.
I received the following round of replies (my responses in italics):
#1 I see a column evolving
#2 I detest ‘hella.’
Slanguage of the street—or in this case, parking lot!
#2 Back in Texas guys would say “Buh” who were too lazy to say “Bubba.” Same thing.
Okay, you changed my mind; not going to go out with him after all! ; )
#2 Nah. Go ahead. Get some 20s nookie. It’s probably…hella good!
#3 You will have access to hella movies!
#4 All guys in their 60’s are creepy :-P [from guy in his 60s]
#5 Count your blessings!
#6 Well, at least you know the dude was not lying!
#7 That is great—the story, not the situation!
There are probably women who wouldn't chat up a young dude selling black market stuff out of his car after dark in the parking lot of the Walmart (I told him I'd been selling my stuff off, too), and, here, it was the highlight of my day! ; )
#4 This screams for a romantic comedy, starring James Franco and Cameron Diaz. Possible flick title: "Save Money, Live Better" ;-)
#6 I'll have what she's having...
In addition to reaffirming my egotistical belief that my friends are some of the most clever in cyberspace, it made me wonder, what about a web site where friends could sign an on and rate your date? They do it with exes, they do it with hookers, why not this?
Even the simplest encounters have, if nothing else, entertainment potential. In the old days, we got on the phone and dished, but no one talks on the phone anymore. And not everyone is as willing to post their shenanigans for their entire friend list as I am. What if you could come home and post your evening’s events and get feedback from all of your besties, good, bad and brutal?
Start checking those copyrights. I’m off to Walmart to find a date for New Year’s Eve.