Grandpa's Number

You've heard it a bunch of times how people say, "Oh please, age is just a number!" Now, most people when they say that are referring to an age gap - I'm 25 and you're 40 - oh age is just a number, sure.  I get that.  But then there are those you refer to how they act - I'm 45 but I feel 27, age is just a number.  Do you see the difference?  I never really thought about it.  I mean, I am "older than 40" and I truly do not act my age.  Age has never defined me so I take people at face value when they say, "Age is just a number". 

Allow me to introduce you to example A (not an actual photo): 
We'll call him, Grandpa.  I don't know if he has any

grand kids or not, it's more of an attitude than a position.  I texted Grandpa for most of the morning.  His pictures were decent, out on a deck near the water, in the water and one close up of his head and shoulders.  He wasn't completely unfortunate looking although the angle did a lot to cover up the bald spot in the back of his head but I digress.  We texted and chatted a bit - nothing too personal.  He was originally from NJ (should have been my first clue), he moved down last year and bought his 5600 square feet house near the water in January (not sure why it was necessary to tell me the square footage - not like I'm ever going to see it, let alone live in it).  He has two daughters (both grown and in different stages of college).  He's an engineer (should have seen that as another clue, too).  So, with all this basic knowledge, when he asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink, I said yes.  Oddly, I shrugged as I said it.  (Another clue.)

So we met ... at the local watering hole - scene to "Boy" from my last blog.  Maybe I should reconsider where I meet these people?  Of course, the venue does not determine the likelihood of attraction so... that point may be moot.  So, we agree to meet.  I left work (a little later than I should have to be on time - another clue).  Of course, the traffic was worse than usual but I managed to get to the parking garage by five after.  I did receive a text from Grandpa telling me, he too, was caught up in the traffic and would be a few minutes late.  How convenient. 

I parked my car and walked to the venue.  I went in and sat at the bar, asked about the happy hour specials and proceeded to order myself a drink.  Now, let me remind you of something here.  Grandpa and I NEVER exchanged names.  He doesn't know mine (although he thinks he does based on my screen name but that's not my REAL name) and I never asked for his (yet, another clue).  Also, Grandpa does NOT have my phone number, nor I his.  He and I communicate solely through the dating app (yup, another clue).  Sometimes, I seriously wonder if Clairol seeps into my brain cells and dulls my senses.  I should have seen the signs - the clues were there.  I'm sure you know where this is going ...

As I sat there and took a sip of my drink, my phone showed an alert.  I checked, yup it was from Grandpa.  He said he made it.  I replied with, "I'm at the bar." Only to get a turn around response of, "me too! in the front, where are you?"  With this, I got up, grabbed my drink and proceeded to go to the other side of the bar.  I looked at the bar and saw a man (tall, leaning over the bar with a tummy that practically touched his knees) and hoped to God and all that is Holy to not be him.  Thankfully, the guy at the table turned around and said, "Hey!"  I dodged that one, right?  Or so I thought. 

I smiled and said, "Hi!"  He already had a drink and a slice of bread with some kind of sauce on the side.  I took in the scene and said nothing.  I sat down across from him. 

"How long have you been here?  I didn't see you come in?," he asked.

I smiled and said, "Oh, I just got here," as I took a long sip of my drink.  Already I started thinking about how long this was going to last.  Perhaps it showed on my face, I don't know.  He asked me something and before I could answer, the worst waitress ever showed up.  (I am not just saying that, she is the WORST waitress ever unless you are a man).  She swooped in and proceeded to interrupt with, "Hello Darlin', how do you like..." and then she noticed me (how she could miss me considering she had to avoid walking into me to get to the table, I don't know), "Oh, I see you have a drink, everything else okay?" with the most insincere smile on her face.  You know those smiles.  The one you make when you were just told you have to work on Saturday after you were told you didn't.  Yea, that one.  Girlfriend was NOT happy I was sitting at her table.  Whatever, I smiled and said, " Yes, I have everything I need, thanks, " with a wink and equally insincere smile.  Grandpa on the other hand, smiled a huge smile and told her, "Put her drink on my tab, Darlin'".  Not sure of the appeal but I think I may have thrown up a little in my mouth. 

The conversation continued and ventured from his "stately" manor to how deep the water was around his house.  Like I cared.  I asked how he was fairing on the website - he said something non-committal.  He asked how I was fairing ... to liven up the conversation I told him about how people like to send hello's via photos instead of words.  Typically, this would spark a conversation of how inappropriate that is, perhaps to shock and/ or possibly annoyance.  Yea, in this instance he chuckled and took another drink of his "baby" beer.  (the glass looked like something I would use for a tea party for seven-year-olds).   Conversation continued - content was inane and boring.  I steered it to something I liked - dancing.  I told him that I went dancing at the club two weeks ago. 

"At the club?" he asked. 

"Yes, you know the places that play loud music," I said raising my eyebrows and giving the look of duh that I usually reserve for my children or really slow people.
 
"Oh, right.  Who still goes out to a club?  I'm in bed by 9pm every night," he countered as he looked down into his almost empty baby glass.

"Well,..." I started, as the WORST waitress (WW) ever swooped in again and asked if we'd like a second round.  Grandpa actually was thinking about it and I jumped in and said, "Yes, that would be great!"
To which Grandpa said, "Yes, but I want something different - I want the 'gaaawpooo" or whatever that is, I don't know how to say it," as he laughed along with WW.  WW took her leave and I looked at the board where all the IPAs were listed.  The drink he ordered was an el Guapo.  I looked at him and pronounced it for him.  He shrugged his shoulders.  I translated it for him.  "It means the most handsome".  He smiled and said, "how fitting".  I smiled in return but it was more of a, "wow, you think highly of yourself, don't you?"  He thought I was in agreement so I let him go with that. 

He excused himself to use the bathroom.  I told him where it was.  Small bladder on top of everything else.  I can not do this. 

"So, what DO you listen to?" he asked when he returned, as WW returned with our drinks.  I said, "EDM." I knew full well, he had NO idea what that was.  I went on to dumb it down for him - he finally nodded when I said, "it's like Techno but better." I took a long sip of my drink and was quite happy it was not a double like I normally order.  I could not handle this guy.

"Oh, well, I can't stay awake most nights.  I like to sit on my deck and watch the water, and fall asleep in my chair," he said as he avoided eye contact.  If I didn't know prior, I definitely knew now, this is done.  Just gotta work on my exit. 

"Well, you know, as you age, sleep does become more important to many," I threw out there to see if he'd bite.

"Yes, sleep is very important.  What time do you get up if you go out the club - do you close them or just visit?" he asked.

"Actually, it depends on the company and the music, if it's good, I close the club, if not, I leave.  Point is I stay up a lot of times til 2-3am," I said with a challenge in my eyes. 

"Okay, but what time do you get up?" he countered.

"5:30am - 6am depending on whether I go to the gym. Of course, I may also take a nap at Noon but that's perfectly okay," I said with a twist of a grin. 

"haha, you know when you get older, most give up there 'wayward' ways," he said trying to not sound condescending.  I picked up on it and said, "Well, I might be xx years old but I don't need that to define my actions."

"Age is just a number," he said. 

"If age is just a number why do so many determine how they will act and what activities they engage in based solely on their age?" I demanded.

"I like being my age. I need to be my age.  I am active and stay active in accordance with my age." he said.

I began to laugh...just then WW appeared and asked if we needed another round.  I shook my head and he said,"No, we need to get going".  Did we ever?  I was dying from his cookie cutter conformist attitude not to mention his need to use the bathroom every 20 minutes. 

I was off the chair and started to walk toward the door.  Thankfully we were in opposite directions.  He said something (I just smiled and threw out the "it was nice to meet you too" line not even sure that's what he had said.)  I didn't care.  I wanted to go.  I turned my back and left. 

Age is just a number - in the future, I'm going to have to ask for qualifiers - because for this gal, I could be 100 but as long as I can dance, I'll be going to the club.  I'll be on the dance floor and I'll be shaking my bootie because I can.  To me, age IS just a number, to others it's a metaphor for time and longing to be old.  Go on Grandpa, go back to your deck and your water and beer and don't forget your blanket for when you fall asleep, alone. 

Return to Innocence?

Hopefully, you've had an opportunity to read my last blog and truly taken it to heart.  Since that was an intermission, I used it to think about what I really wanted to achieve - am I going about this the right way?  Am I agreeing to meet people thinking it's not one for the books, but more like one for the blog?  So, I decided to go back over my filtering material and choose someone I might actually like.

We'll call him the Boy next door.  His profile was innocent enough - tall enough, fit enough, didn't smoke, no kids and no ex's.  How is that even possible?  I didn't ask at the time.  One, sometimes, should just say thank you and move on.  Well, I should have moved on ... more on that in a bit.

So "Boy" was polite and seemed nice.  We texted back and forth without incident and even talked on the phone.  He truly seemed okay.  We decided to meet at a local watering hole.  A place with happy hour until 7pm.  He had said something to me on the phone just prior to agreeing to meet that stayed with me.

"Time is a commodity I refuse to waste.  So, if I'm not interested, I have no problem telling you face- to-face, right then and there," he said.  I agreed without thought - I wanted to get off the phone.  But his statement stuck with me.  Of course, I would love to be able to tell someone straight up that I'm not interested but, and I don't think I'm alone in this, no one wants to hurt someone else's feelings right?

I shrugged it off and went about my business.  Before I knew it, it was time to meet "Boy".  I was pulling into the parking lot when I got the text.  "I'm here, I got a table, just waiting for you."  "Okay," I texted in return.

I parked the car, walked across the lot to the pub and went in.  I hate having to find someone, especially if you've never met them.  I mean, what if they don't look like their photo? (yes, it does happen).

The hostess asked me if I was meeting "Boy" and I said yes.  At least he had taken care of the hunt for that evening.  I was shown to a table.  From behind, Boy looked just like his picture. Straight back, broad-ish shoulders, dark brown hair... I found myself thinking - MAYBE?

Then I turned around the table and saw him.  REALLY saw him.  Sure, he was tall enough, fit enough and had his teeth (I think) and his hair (from what I could tell from afar), but the man was old enough to be my father.

He stood up and pulled my chair, sort of, out for me.  I sat down and immediately started thinking exit strategies.  Who did I tell I was going out tonight?  What was that word I had to use for the exit?  So many thoughts running through my head as I found myself sitting across from Boy.  What the heck was I thinking?  I know better than this.  I should have met at the bar - not the table.  Oh well, I'm there now, so I had to suck it up and go with it.

He started the conversation, innocuous enough, however, I couldn't pay any attention.  I tried to smile and insert an "oh really," "wow," or a chuckle here and there when seemingly appropriate.  He ordered us drinks, for me a beer and for him some seriously girly drink one might expect a 21-year-old boy to order (sex on the beach).  Yea, he had delusions of grandeur.

We sat for a while, I don't know how long.  Honestly, my mind was focused on the fact that I did not want to be there and this guy was not what he proclaimed to be.  I started to count his wrinkles.  There were so many.  They ran one right into the other.  He reminded me of the super hero, the rock man in the movie, "Fantastic Four."  He must have some mad filtering skills for his pictures!   I remembered what he said about not wasting time and telling people "up front".  I thought more on it as he ordered himself a second or maybe, a third drink.  I couldn't help it... it just came out.


"I'm sorry, I just can't do this," I blurted out.  Like word vomit.  I pride myself on being nice but sometimes words happen. 

"What?" he said.

"Look your pictures make you look at least 10 years younger and I know I should just be polite and allow you to prattle on but I can't.  I feel bad ... actually, you know what?  I don't.  You made the comment about time.  Not being wasted, etc.  Well, I'm not going to waste any more of yours or mine," I said as I wiped my napkin across my mouth and stood up.  "Thank you for the beer and good luck." 

The look of shock and perhaps a little bit of awe was apparent on his face.  I started to leave and realized I didn't want to.  I didn't want to leave the pub, just him.  So, I made my way to the bar by myself and ordered a bourbon.  Nothing like a nice stiff drink to take the edge off a bad date. 

It was interesting though, about 10 minutes later some buddies of mine from work showed up and I ended up playing pool and chatting with them for the rest of the night.  It turned out to be a good night. 

What's the moral of this story?  I guess it would have to be, "The truth shall set you free." 

Remember, on a first date, you don't have to worry about doing something wrong and saying something wrong - it's a meeting.  The sole purpose is to see if there is a spark or a desire or even a chance of friendship, love, etc.  So, be yourself!  Nothing worse than having to fake it!  Besides, YOU are a great person - just ask your friends!