A neighbor of mine had a get together this weekend and I decided to stop in to show my support. He always has great food, funky music, and an eclectic mix of people at his parties. Plus, he told me he'd invited some interesting single guys I might like to meet. So I couldn't go wrong, right? WRONG!!!
I'm standing by the window talking and mingling when I feel the side of my face burning. Someone is staring at me. I look around the room slowly and spot him: A handsome Spanish and/or Asian young man with big brown eyes,long eyelashes,and pretty almond colored skin. Once he realizes I've caught him staring, he smiles. I smile back. Before I know it he's crossed the room and is standing beside me talking, laughing, flirting. He's adorable but looks a little young so I inquire about his age. He tells me he's 22! I take a step back, literally. I mean, I know black don't crack and alla that. And I know that I can take a few years off of my actual age and actually get away with it, on a good day. But I also know that he HAS to know there is no way I'm anywhere near 22 and if he thinks I am, he's WRONG!!!
I'd be the first to admit I've dated my share of younger men in my day - but 22? Hells to the no! He WAS kinda cute, though, in a Mary Kay Letourno's-underage-baby-daddy-turned-husband-after-she-served-time-in-jail-kind-of-way. When he asked me for my phone number, I seriously didn't know what to say. I wanted to yell "Stand back Satan!!!" because he was adorable and attentive and I was totally tempted to give it to him. Thankfully, I listened to the voice inside my head that said "He may not know how old you are but You know how old you are" and declined to dole out the digits.
I had my eye on another guy, anyway: A handsome, mature looking brother with salt and pepper grey hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and light brown eyes. He had on one of those corduroy blazers with the suede patches at the elbow, was very intellectual looking, and I was intrigued. Maybe he was a professor. Or a philosopher. Or an engineer. He could have been a writer, right? WRONG!!! He was a Revolutionary Communist. For real. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just... as he was talking about the evils of the capitalist structure on which the American democratic system is built, I suddenly remembered: I want a man to cuddle up and watch movies with, not plot ways to execute the implementation of communist ideologies into the subconscious of the American masses with! I mean, the man was fine, but not that fine. Geez.
Still, I'm so glad I accepted my neighbor's invitation and attended the party, even though I didn't stay long. I had some great food, met some interesting albeit inapropriate guys, and actually enjoyed myself. And there's nothing wrong with that, right?