from February 20, 2008
No, my humiliating experience was not my date Sunday night. That went very well, thank you very much. It better have gone well considering how much I spent on dinner, but especially in light of the fact that I broke one of my dating rules.
I only have two rules about dating. Rule Number One- don’t date co-workers, or as I usually put it, I don’t shit where I eat. Now in the past I have been stupidly tempted to break that rule. I’ve skirted the line, I’ve approached the line, I’ve danced on the line, I’ve peeked across the line, and I’ve been accused of crossing the line, but I’ve never broken that rule, despite the fact that I am so often so stupidly smitten.
Rule Number Two is never date a teacher. This dovetails nicely with the first rule, as I work with teachers, and it also excludes all the teachers in all the other schools. This is the rule I broke. In fact, I also broke Rule Number Two A- especially never date a math teacher.
But this is about my humiliating experience. That happened today.
I was buying a birthday card in the Hallmark store on 86th street. It was pretty quiet and I was the only one paying.
I was pretty laid back. It was one of those days where I was just doing my thing, like the post office, birthday card, lunch, all without the benefit of iPod so it was just me and my thoughts, and my thoughts were just as laid back.
I went to the counter and there were two girls there, both around 21 to 23 years old. They were kind of cute. Both of them looked like the kind of wholesome girls you usually only find outside of the city. One was blonde with straight hair and one had dark curly hair. Something about the dark one nagged me, and I realized that she looked like Janan Eways, only attractive and without the crazy eyes. (That’s an LHS reference some of you won’t get.) But they were young and I wasn’t interested.
I’ve never been interested in younger women, no mater what my own age. If I was 16, a 15 year old meant nothing to me. When I was 23, I wouldn’t care for a 21 year old. I’ve always been attracted to women my age or older. There’ve been a few notable exceptions, but that has pretty much been my way. I never planned it, that’s the way it was and the way it is. I like older women, or at least women my same age.
But as I paid I noticed the dark one, the one who rang me up. She was dressed in a blue top with a black apron, a part of her uniform. The blonde one had an apron too. She was not in anyway dressed provocatively, and even if she was the apron would have hidden it, but somehow, between her apron and shirt, a little fringe of frilly pink bra peeked out.
While I may not have been particularly interested in this young girl, she was legal age, and I had a few idle thoughts going through my head. Nothing dirty or lewd, but I am a healthy man and when confronted with a cute girl showing a flash of frilly pink bra the healthy man’s mind tends to wander a bit.
So as I handed her my money I was in a particularly better, though still laid back, mood, when the blonde one said “you look like my father.”
When no one answered her I turned around to see who she was talking to. There was no one there. She was talking to me.
“Um, oh?” I said, and it was the most coherent thing I could think of.
“Yeah, you look just like him.”
“Oh, OK.”
The dark one said “she’s a very random person,” and was not helpful at all.
“He had a moustache,” the blonde said.
At this point I managed a small grasp on things. “I used to have a mustache.” Pretty much everything in my head had gone screeching away in a cloud of dust. Bye bye, mellow mood. So long, pink bra.
Hello old man.
Had I had one at the time, this would have been a real erection killer.
I got my change and the girl said, again, “wow, just like him.”
“I guess that’s a compliment,” I sort of blurted.
“Oh yeah, my father is a good looking man.”
“Um, OK.”
And I left.
So I guess that wasn’t so bad, but I am only 37, not nearly old enough to be her father. I was just recently told by a teacher at LHS, (in the men’s room, and didn’t that make me want to zip up and leave?) that I have a youthful face.
But by God, being told that you look like a 21 year-old’s father while you are idly speculating about her friend’s pink frilly bra is a jolting experience.
So I’m at an age where, despite never being attracted to younger women, it is now a fact that younger women will not be attracted to me, except in a fatherly way?
Needless to say I am a bit confused about the whole thing, and I am now remembering times when I was told that I was just like someone’s father because I bought batteries on sale, (and yes that sounds old to me too,) or when Bonnie read my bio in Raphael’s Journalism class (the one where I was sexually harassed by a gay, beret-wearing Canadian- why the hell haven’t I ever blogged about that?????) and Bon said that I reminded her of her father.
So I’ve usually felt as though I was 37 going on 18, but just today I’m starting to feel like I’m 37 going on 58, with a couple of kids and a minivan.
So unless you are 37 or older, don’t flash your frilly pink bra when I’m paying for a birthday card, and never tell me that I remind you of your father unless we’re playing a spanking game in bed and you’ve been a bad bad girl.
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