It's a small world

How small the world is was never so apparent to me till just a few days ago.

About a month or 6 weeks ago, a young man started to write to me from the dating site I'm on.

His first email began, "Hi, What's shaking?"

I laughed when I read it then proceeded to his profile to see who is was. He had more pictures than information, but I found out he was 28 years old. He was cute, intense, and serious. His hair was dark and shaggy. In no picture did he smile. His profession stated RX.

At first I intended on ignoring the email. But, looking for fodder for my blog, I replied. Thus began some quirky on-line correspondence. The first thing I told this "boy" was that I was 54 years old. I informed him that he was older than my youngest, but that I had two children older than him.

He told me he didn't care. He said I was interesting, intriguing and beautiful. Ok, so I fell for it. Who wouldn't want to hear it, especially from a young man. After a few weeks of emailing and on-line chatting, my young admirer asked me to call him. (to make this easier, I'm going to call him B***** B***** or BB for short. Maybe it was boredom, maybe curiosity that made me dial his number. BB answered in a soft, shy voice. Several times during our on-line chats I questioned him about his interest in me. I asked him if he and his friends were playing a joke on me. I told him I was old and overweight, but he reminded me that he thought I was gorgeous.

Once a week BB called me and quietly talked to me. He tried to talk romantically to me and sometimes awkward innuendos will slip from his lips. It's very cute and more entertaining than tv. I'm always straight with him and I try to draw it out of him, why he would waste his time talking to me, but he insists he likes me. A few times he sweetly told me that he thinks about me all of the time and that he felt like he was falling in love. In my straightforward manner, I told him he couldn't possibly fall in love with a stranger, especially one that could be as old as his mom. Maybe he's anti social, maybe he's bored too, but no one is hurting in this situation and I guarantee nothing will come of it.

BB and I spoke last Sunday, and on Monday I went to the Dr. for some swelling and weight gain that was probably due to menopause. She wrote me a prescription and I headed off to my local discount store to get it filled. It's where I get a few other prescriptions taken care of.

As I walked up to the counter, I saw two men standing behind the counter and one looked oddly familiar to me.

"He must have waited on me," I thought to myself. In fact, I know that he had helped me before, but this recognition felt different.

I suddenly thought of BB. Then I remembered RX on his profile.

"There's no way, " I whispered.

Luckily, the other pharmacist decided to help me. BB glanced over at me and our eyes locked for a second. Then he turned and continued counting pills or whatever it was he was doing.

There's a partition by the counter that separates pick up and drop off, so I stood close to the partition, blocking my view. I still wasn't sure if it was BB but I wasn't going to take any chances. It was all too weird for me. Maybe he would think I was stalking him. Maybe he would be embarrassed. I know I was embarrassed. If this guy had been fantasizing that I was some hot, sexy cougar, I just blew his fantasy out of the water. Even though he'd seen my pictures on my profile, my look on this day was swollen, menopausal grandmother.

I looked over at the wall while the man who was waiting on me gathered some information from me. When he asked me my name, I barely whispered it. My heart was pounding in my chest and I wanted to just grab the prescription and dash out of the store. But instead, I kept myself close to the partition. I then noticed on the wall to my right, the names of the pharmacists and their degrees. There, beneath them all, was a large certificate with the words, Pharmacist Technician, B*****B*****.

As soon as I could, I flew out of that store as fast as my bad knees could take me. A few days later BB called me and I realized he was totally unaware that I had seen him and vice versa.

"I wish I could meet you, " he whispered.

Little does he know that we've already met.

Now I'm off to take my medication, rub ben gay on my knees, dye my white roots, and apply anti aging cream to my wrinkles.

Dancing Grannies and Gramps

Saturday nights can sometimes be the worst night when you are single. At least, for me they are.

It's not that I mind staying home, or being alone, it's just that I sometimes get bored and I want to be around people. Especially people my own age.

On Saturday morning I surfed around the internet and found that a single's dance was happening in Redford that evening. I've been to this dance in the past and figured I'd check it out, maybe dance, and maybe meet some new friends.

I started getting ready at around 7 by taking a shower, blow drying my hair and putting on my makeup. I then squeezed into a one size too small pair of dress pants. I slipped on about 5 different shirts before I found one that I really felt good in. Then, to make sure I looked nice, I took some pictures of myself with the timer on the camera. (I have no full length mirror.) As soon as I saw the first picture, I went into the bedroom and changed into a different pair of pants, and a new shirt and jacket.

The dance started at 8 so I left my house at 8:10 since I was only 10 minutes away.

The parking lot seemed full as I approached the hall and I was optimistic that I might have some fun.

It is very difficult to walk into a single's event by myself so I sat in my car for a few minutes and talked to myself, spewing out some affirmations. I sounded like Stuart Smalley from Saturday Night Live who used to say I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me!.

Only my affirmation was, "Some people are fatter than you, some are thinner, some are uglier, some are prettier. Just go in and have fun. Screw em!"

That is probably the saddest, least affirming statements I could say, but it helped me muster up the courage to walk into the doors.

What I saw as I paid my $10 was a sad group of people, sitting in a brightly lit church gym, watching free dance lessons being held on the dance floor.

Ugh. It was the worst ambiance I've ever seen for a dance. I found a table close to the dance floor. This wasn't difficult as most of the seats were empty. I then watched the dance lessons and pretended to text someone on my phone.

I tried not too look around the room too much, but I was interested in seeing what was there.
Even though I'm 54, I'm sure I was the youngest woman there. I also decided I was one of the cutest. Still, it wouldn't matter, as most of the men there reminded me of my late father-in-law who died at the age of 94.

Sometimes it is hard for me to realize that I'm almost ready to start asking for a senior discount. Next year, I can move into a senior center if I want. But, right now I'm still feeling young. Last year I went to see The Cure. I like Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters and Linkin Park. I own a pair of black and hot pink tennis shoes and I like cotton candy flavored bubble gum. Most of my friends are under the age of 38 and they forget that I'm 54 (except when I complain about my knees or my wrinkles.) Thirty year old men send me emails asking me if I like younger men and I flirt back with them, telling them that I do. If I don't know a popular term I look it up in the urban dictionary and I know how to text.

Yet, here I was at a dance and the most current song the dj played was "Boogie Wonderland" by Earth Wind and Fire. I suffered through song after song waiting for something current, but when I heard him play, "The last Farewell" by Roger Whittaker, I gave up all hope of hearing anything I liked.

I hate to be cynical, but just because we listened to "Shout" when we were kids doesn't mean we have to relive it when we are in our 50s. There's been a million good songs written since, but I guess the DJ was stuck in a time warp himself.

I was just thinking about leaving when the song "Lady in Red" came on. Even though I dislike this song, someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I wanted to dance. His name was Paul and he was 41 with long black hair. He was a little chubby and wore classes but he was cute and HE was the youngest one there. I danced with him several times during the next hour.

A short little man with glasses asked me to dance after Paul. He kept telling me how beautiful I was and how good I smelled. When he started to paw me on the dance floor, I told him that maybe he needed to find someone else to dance with. Later, he asked if he could sit with me. I told him for a minute. He sat down and started to ask me a lot of questions.

"Where do you live?"

"Do you live alone?"

"Why are you divorced?"

"Where are your x husbands?"

"Is your x husband healthy?"

Finally, I blurted out, "are you writing a book? What is this, an interview?"

He looked a little defeated, wished me a good night and slithered off to find another woman.

Earlier in the evening, a woman sat across from me and we chatted in between dances, even exchanging phone numbers in case we ever wanted to meet at another dance and walk in together. She was a tiny size 2 and danced all night long, but confided in me that she had never been married, never lived with anyone and had never had children. She said she was about ready to give up on finding someone. I quickly told her to NEVER give up. I told her she was cute, attractive and funny and that someone was out there, but probably not at this dance.
At around 10, she thanked me for being so kind, slipped on her tiny leather jacket over her tiny black dress and went to her car. She had seen enough.

I sat alone at the table for a few minutes then gathered up my purse and keys, waved goodbye to Paul and got home in time to watch a cheesy horror movie. That is what I probably should have done in the first place. I'm guess I'm just not ready for the over 50 dances yet. At least not for a few more years.