Playing with fire.

You’ve felt invisible to the opposite sex for some time now, so long that your expectations have completely evaporated and you’ve lost all hope that you’ll meet someone interesting at a party or even the grocery store. Two of your close friends, ten years or more younger than you, are dating men your age, which helps explain the lack of eligible bachelors in your demographic, and even if it is typically cliché, the young ones are snapping up the best of the inventory. The option of online dating isn’t that attractive since just the selection process is daunting and the thought of actually paying for that disappointment is the icing on the cake. You go to a should-be-a-blast party expecting to spend the evening chatting with you gay or female friends----another Saturday night of catching a wine buzz and off to bed alone and rejected.

But then a very nice looking man approaches you and starts a conversation. Rich is charming, direct and a little drunk---that or rude because he asks your age. You’re taken by surprised and tell him; his reply is that he is 48 as well. You are amused by this man and although he seems trustworthy you call him a liar to his face and demand to see his driver’s license. You take his license to the only light in the area, on the bar, and tell the bartender that you are checking IDs; he is, in fact, 6 months younger than you but he looks much younger. He tells you you are beautiful and don’t look your age. When he leans in and kisses you you are less surprised than grateful. It’s been way too long since a man noticed you.

The rest of the party is spent making out and looking for places to make out; your party activity does not go unnoticed by your friends and comments are made. He tells you he wants to take you to the bathroom and fuck you. You want nothing better than take up his offer but your prudeness kicks in and you fight off his advances. He tells you he has a girlfriend but that she doesn’t like sex. You tell him you love sex and that you are particularly good at it. You truly want to fuck him, but not now and not here. You tell yourself you’re too classy for that. Numbers are exchanged and you send him on his way.

That was Saturday night, Sunday morning if you want to get technical. When you haven’t heard from him by Wednesday you think that maybe you were too hard on him, sending him home with blue balls so you decided to take matters into your own hands and make the first move. You text him a “remember me?” message about making out in the bushes and he responds immediately. You dance around until a date to meet for a few drinks is made for the following evening.

When you met you were wearing a little black dress so you decide another one is in order, very Audrey Hepburn. When he calls to see where you want to meet you are nervous and therefore a little caught of guard. You hadn’t thought about where to meet and he picks a place too close to where you live. He isn’t finished at work just yet so he will call you in an hour to firm things up. You shower and slide into your sheath dress and await his call. You mention the meeting and your nervousness to your housemate, Troy, who says he noticed your skittishness, and suggests a glass of wine to calm yourself down. You’re way ahead of him. When the call comes you have an option in mind and will be meeting him in 15 minutes. You calm yourself by downing the glass of wine.

Although you had hoped to get to the bar after Rich so you could make your grand entrance, you get there first. He arrives and is as attractive as you remembered. He approaches you with a greeting and a kiss on the cheek; you are convinced everyone in the bar can tell this is a first date. Although you are nervous you jump right in with witty conversation and before you know it you two are well into your first cocktail, and each other, even though the first thing out of his mouth is the reminder that he has a girlfriend.

The conversation couldn’t go better; you two have a lot of things in common. His girlfriend is 15 years younger than the two of you and you realize that the age difference is probably working in your favor. Troy’s boyfriend is 14 years younger that he is and the age difference is painfully obvious when pop culture references from the 1980s are made. You imagine that this is the same case with Rich and his girlfriend, so you make obscure references that Rich picks up on. As you two talk your knees touch and he does not pull away. You lightly rest your hand on his arm as you tell him about the time you met Al Jorgensen from Ministry one crazy night in New Orleans. Turns out he played with the band a few times in Chicago. You’re making points and order a second drink.

Although it isn’t late, only 10:00, Rich has been up since 6 am and has a meeting in Seattle the following morning. He pays for the drinks and walks you to your car. You two kiss and it’s Saturday night in the bushes all over again. It’s obviously you two have chemistry. As things heat up he asks if you two can go to your place; Troy is home packing for a weekend trip so you nix that idea. Rich has an out of town guest so you decide to move the action to the back seat of his car. Very high school of you and there’s no turning back now.

When it’s all over he tells you that was the sexiest thing that’s happened to him in years. You let him know it’s only the beginning while you search the floorboards for your thong. Thank god you chose a dress as straddling him in pants wouldn’t have worked out as well in the cramped back seat. He walks you back to your car and you bid him a good night with another lingering kiss. By the time you turn your car around he is gone. He later texts you that he had a great time. You know you have to see him again. You also have the vague notion that this will end badly and someone will get hurt. That someone will probably be you.

Death of Telecom

You were selected by your state employment office for an orientation titled “Client Re-employment”; you assume it is because you are considered white collar and can benefit from a higher level of resume writing and interviewing training. Turns out it’s because the state’s evaluation of your combination of past jobs, salary and your particular industry makes it highly unlikely you will be able to find a similar job to what you have had for the past 10 years. Turns out you are becoming obsolete. Although you were concentrating on a position OUTSIDE telecom all along, this news makes you now feel dejected, a relic of another age. A dinosaur. Telecom was to be your “fall back” gig; turns out it’s nothing but a dead end. At this advanced age you are forced to change your spots. This idea does not make you jump for joy.

The majority of the dinosaurs in your orientation class were around you age or older. This is also an eye opener, not because you realize the old get left behind but because you are now grouped in their category. No amount of Origin’s Perfect World will help this situation. You, like the rest of them, have an expiration date stamped on you somewhere that only employers can see. Time to invest in enough self-tanner to cover the mark.

Driving Miss Lazy

It's not like you're new to this, for you it's actually old hat. Problem is your regular, everyday blog is read by your friends so it severely limits what you can say about them and yourself, so you've set up this other, secret site to rant and confess. Fun, huh? Now you just have to come up with something to say. Yup, there's the rub---there's always a rub.

You're 48, twice divorced, unemployed, living with your gay best friend in his house and you finally admit that you are just a little bit disappointed in what we will call your life. Oh, and you suck at spelling which would otherwise discourage you from writing anything if not for spellcheck. Praise Jesus for spellcheck. You realize you sincerely don't look that good on paper, but you joke with yourself and play it off for the laugh value. You're good at telling jokes so you believe it and laugh along with yourself. Maybe you should set yourself up on Match.com with those as your most positive characteristics, old, divorced, in a temporary gap in your career---you'll have those men-folk banging your door down for sure, everyone likes a train wreck. Perhaps you should stock up on condoms, just in case.

You congratulate yourself for setting up this blog and have succeeded in getting it's all important, maiden voyage post out of the way so you can compliment yourself on filling your unemployed hours with something worthwhile and productive. Not that sitting in the sun reading David Sedaris isn't productive. Beats watching daytime TV.

PS You hate this page layout but you just can't dick with it anymore today. When you have more time you promise you'll put that Fine Arts education your daddy paid for to work and fix the fucker. But not now, there's a refrigerator to raid and it won't eat out itself.

PSS Although you won't be winning any design prizes for this layout, it beats the shit out of the original. You figure you can live with it.