In the continuing hilarity that is my single existence, it’s not that I don’t attract men. No, it’s that the men I attract are of the wholly inappropriate kind.
The latest trend seems to be that I attract men UNDER the age of 25, or OVER the age of 55. All of whom are, I’m sure, utterly delectable, but pretty useless as potential partners. Now, I know age isn’t important, but there have to be some limitations…
Just this morning, a gentleman that I’ll refer to as ‘mature’ struck up conversation with me. Within five minutes, I’d discovered that he was from Jordan, he’d been in the UK for 25 years and that he worked as a urologist at the local hospital. All very nice, but if I’m totally honest, I’d viewed our encounter more in the light of a polite exchange with a senior citizen, than a preliminary courtship ritual between two potential daters .
As I took my leave, I said, “Well, have a good day. This is a very small city; I’m sure we’ll see each other around.” To which he replied, with an undeniable twinkle in his eye, “Well, we could always ARRANGE to see each other.”
How is it that a gentleman of 60 has the chutzpah to proposition a whippersnapper (just over) half his age??
Ladies, there’s a lesson there for all of us. He who dares doesn’t always win, but I guess –cliché #1 – you’ve got to be in it to win it and – cliché #2 – you’ll have plenty of fun trying.