When I was a teenager I was always attracted to older boys. I had no time for those immature boys in my class. I wanted an older boy who would appreciate me.

Yeah, I know. Just thinking back to that time makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth too.

But now that I’m older and struggle to stay up past 11pm. Now that I’ve had four kids and consider it a good day when I’ve made it to the bathroom without peeing in my underwear a little. Now I’m a little flattered when those young whipper snappers hit on me.

Isn’t it weird how at 25 you want a 33 year old to hit on you and at 33 you want a 25 year old to hit on you?

A few friends and I had a girl’s night out on Friday night. We met up at a Mexican restaurant where I ordered a combo basket of breaded mushrooms, breaded cauliflower and mozzarella sticks. What? Ok, so it wasn’t exactly Mexican. But at least I got some vegetables. Granted they were covered in grease. But I’m counting them as two of my six daily veggie servings.

Speaking of following the food pyramid, I also had a couple servings of fruit. I had a strawberry margarita and a watermelon margarita. Yum! I should fulfill my daily fruit servings like that more often.

And I wonder why my jeans are all a little tight.

So anyway…I’ve some how gotten way off track. Back to young boys. [I can already see the google searches I'll get on that one.]

After we finished our fruits and vegetables we headed off to a bar. My friend, Carolyn, and I were at the bar harassing the bartender when a young kid approached me. He had a sweatband on his head and he was gnawing on a piece of beef jerky. First impressions people. It’s something to consider before you hit on a girl. I’m just sayin’.

“Are you from here?” he asked.

Why is that always the first thing a guy asks a girl? Dude, come up with something original. Perhaps, “Girl, you’re looking fine today.” They really should teach a class in high school on how to pick up a girl. They could get Mystery to write the course materials. They could even show all the episodes of The Pick Up Artist in class.

So anyway, in the course of our conversation we discovered we went to the same high school. I said, “What year did you graduate?”

He said, “‘01.”

At which point I spit my drink all over him.

Ok, so I didn’t really spit my drink all over him, but I did say, “Well you are considerably younger than me.”

He asked me what year I graduated. “‘92.”

I asked, “What are you, 24?”

Turns out he is a much older 25. Whew! For a second there I thought he was way too young for me.

But then it got weirder. Turns out I went to high school with his sister. I said, “I spent the night at her house when we were in high school. Or maybe it was junior high. That was around 20 years ago.”

He goes, “Yeah, that was my house.”

I said, “Dude. You were like five.”

That’s just not right. An eight year age difference is a lot longer when you are 25 and 33 then when you are 55 and 63. Or even 35 and 43.

Before we got to the part where I told him I was married with five kids, he told me he was in a band and gave me his MySpace address. MySpace for crying out loud. He also told me he was leaving in nine days to go to some small island off of Portugal to take care of babies. [Seriously. I can't make this shit up.] Which, in twenty-ish year old boy speak, of course means, so when we have sex I won’t be calling you back, but it’s only because I’ll be helping poor babies in a third world country…not because I’m a total pig.

It’s encounters like this that make me so glad I’m happily married and completely out of this crazy dating scene. But I’m not going to lie. It was flattering to have a 25 year old tell me I had a nice ass.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 24th, 2007 at 10:59 pm and is filed under A day in our life. Comments are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.