Girl’s Nights are great for many things. For seeing friends, for drinking wine & for catching up on all that everyone has been up to regardless if they were in the room or not.
With that being said it wasn’t too long after the booze started flowing that we gained ground on who was seeing whom, who was sleeping with whom (no one) and who we should never go out with. Most of our stories are what I like to call not quites. You know those stories. You go out one nite with your friends, you meet a cute boy in the room and you start to chat. You get around to exchanging information but …. not quite. Why? because he’s said something stupid.
However, more & more often I’m finding it’s not that they say something stupid it’s that they look at you like YOU’RE stupid.. Why? Because we’re old. We’re of a different a generation. We’re of a generation that can remember dial phones, lived through answering machines & saw the rise of the brick cell phone & whitttle down to a pocket sized version that is smaller then my compact which led to texting to blackberries & iphones and of course the rise of email, internet, social media and of course…. facebook (my best friend).
Case in point, I was out the night before Halloween & a pub crawl walked into the pub i was at & I started talking to a wilted palm tree (had to becuase i couldn’t figure out why dude was wrapped in brown with black balloons around his head. I knew it couldn’ be phallic as what guy wants to point down?) After chatting for a few minutes, I wondered how old he is. He and his friends did look young and well, it HAS been some years since I’ve been on a pub crawl (course, I’m going on one on saturday) so I ask… how old are you? After he told me, I mentioned I was inquiring because I thought they may all be in university. (They weren’t, I just can’t remember how old he was.. 24-26?) I then I hear that horror music. You know that high pitched screech, screech, screech that happens when you’re waiting for the predator to pull back the shower curtain because sure enough, he asks me my age.
I dance around the question a little bit. I usually answer back with my standard: how old do you think I am? But for whatever ever reason I answered with. I’m not 24 (let’s go w/ that age). .. so he pressed on & I relented. I relented mostly because wtf was I going to do with a 24 year old (well, i know, but that’s for a different blog), so I say… 34. He not only looked horrified but answered: No! .. pause… you’re not!… pause. and stared at me. He actaully stared at me like I was a carnival freak & you wonder how they got into the room. Now, I know YTB is dark inside but give me a break. I don’t look 12. You could see in his eyes that he wanted to flee but was counting out the seconds until it was appropriate for him to run away. I let him off the hook & went back to my out of towners and finished my beer….. so, not quite.
I’m sure that won’t be the last time I see that look. Those little T-towners from Saturday didn’t make that look however, they did make fun of my phone. Yes, apparently, I’m ‘old school’… strike 1.5. (my phone is pretty budget but you gotta use something & a friend lent that to me when I needed one so it’s better then a telegraph)… aside from their pouty fat friend and their creepy behaviour………. you know what? they were never not quite. These guys were losers so strike that.
However, Shaloah mentioned her own not quite. She had been at the morrissey the other week & talking to a very cute guy. Sure enough, he was younger. Rather then ask for her number, he asked to add her on facebook.
She wondered.. is this how it is now? Is this the generational difference? I know that some of my friends have issues w/guys texting rather then calling (I personally don’t. I have a hard enough time talking to you in person let alone the phone) but now we’re creating even more distance with facebook? I may be of a different generation but there is nothing aobut facebook that would make me swoon. I’m hoping that this guy is just a nerd with no game & hope to not read to much into that.
Ok, so rather then believe that I am old (because in the scheme of things & my refusal to use eye cream, I’m not), we’re not old but perhaps.. no… could it be? Ney it’s true. I’m afraid to say but I think I’m becoming too sophisticated for some guys.
This to blows my mind. Don’t worry. The irony is NOT lost on me.