There’s probably a 12-step program for me somewhere. It wouldn’t be sexual addiction, but maybe it’s fun addiction or baggage avoidance. Whatever it is and no matter how much I try to date men my own age, I find myself going back to younger stock.
Last week, after I washed the gray right out of my hair, I shea buttered my skin, poured some ice tea, and sat in my Hugh Heffneresque robe while I went online and reactivated some of my online dating profiles. My fishing yielded a 30 year old who wrote me I was the hottest girl he’d seen on the site in a while.
Right, whatever. That may get you laid.
He asked for my phone number, which scored him points because I don’t do the back-and-forth local email. He opted to make his communication to me a text message. Then he emailed me to ask me if I received the text message.
This is the downside to dating babies. They have no old-school communication skills. I wrote him back, “I don’t believe in text messaging. If you want to reach me and talk to me, punch in my 10 digits and call me.” Five hours later, I got a phone call.
“Hey, ah, what are you doing? You want to hang out sometime?” he asked.
Hang out? What exactly is hang-out in the Gen Y lexicon? Where I come from, that would mean making popcorn, renting a Betamax movie, and playing foozball in someone’s basement. I said sure and he said he’d call me to organize something this weekend.
That call came Sunday morning. It was another one-minute conversation. I tried to assertain what hang-out was and suggested we meet for coffee or a beer.
“Oh, I’m kind of in the mood to just make-out. How about we do that,” he suggested.
I told him that was tempting, but generally the way dating worked with me was we’d meet a few times and get to know each other and determine chemistry/common interests before there would be any making out.
He called later in the afternoon and cancelled on me, but not before asking me what I was looking for. “I am looking for a man I connect with – who I can get to know, date and then evolve into a long-term relationship.”
“Whoa. You are the real deal,” he commented
Yeah, so ante-up baby, and ask me out so I can really blog your ass.