Beer and Jello

This morning I woke up and felt like a 20 year old. Unfortunately there wasn’t one around. There is something to be said for dating a younger man. Envy. Walk into a party with a younger guy and the sharks start circling and all the old queens start whispering about how much you paid for him. Then people who haven’t talked to you in years start coming over and introducing themselves to him as your friend. It’s great payback time.

I met this cute guy at a bar the other night he was 22 years old, just out of college. We hit it off and went back to his place for “a couple drinks”. As I made my way through the living room stepping over his X box and Pokemon collection, I got this weird feeling like I was severely robbing the cradle. As you know I am in my early thirties so it’s not too much of a stretch. I guess I rationalized it by thinking ‘if I can remember being that age then it’s okay to date that age. Of course I remember being 12 too, but we just won’t go there.
As he reached into the fridge to grab me a beer (he had to move the Juicy Juice, the Lucky Charms and the Jello snack pudding to get to it) I thought, “What am I doing here? My mind immediately flashed forward to the day when we would be living together. Me pouring over my investment portfolio he pouring over his Mad magazine, taking our prescriptions to the pharmacy together…. My Viagra, his acne cream.

Needless to say the night ended with me having a beer while he had his Swiss Miss. I kissed him on the forehead, tucked him in, turned out the light and went home.