I had a date the other night with a guy from Texas. His name was Bobby. Bobby from Texas. Can you picture it?
I was a little disappointed – he seemed like a nice enough guy, but I felt no attraction and even less interest. I think it was the baseball cap and the fleece-lined jean jacket. And the thick Texas accent. I felt guilty because he wanted to see me again, but I've tried that feeling-sorry-for-my-date approach. It never works out well. I end up getting married and regretting it for the next 15 years. So I wrote him a note this morning to say thank you, but that I didn't think we were compatible. It's mean to say, but he struck me as not very smart. And from Texas. Not a good combination (see GWB, 43rd president, US of A).
I think people are lonely at this time of year. Everyone seems to want to hook up. When I was out with B from T, another guy came over to me to chat. He handed me his card, asked for my phone number, wanted to know if we could get together. Right in front of my date. And Bobby didn't even seem to catch on. I think it's called bird-dogging; when you steal another guy's date. Although, I'm not sure what that expression would make me – a bird or a dog.
Anyway, I looked at the guy's card later and it turns out that he is a divorce lawyer. Not a good sign, I think. He looked a bit like Paul McCartney's grandfather in A Hard Day's Night. Recently divorced, for the second time. Not that I'm judging.
The best part of the evening was that my date was 54, and the bird-dogger was 63. Clearly, I am a hit with the older crowd.
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