Sunday was a double-date day heavy on the years – in fact a combined age 106, I believe. While I may get points for caring for the elderly, the dinner date with Guy 13 was so much different than in the morning with G12. Sunday morning was with a guy from what felt like the previous generation, the wise sage – a Yoda, if you will. OK, not that old looking. But G13 in the evening was different. Actually, he broached that subject well as he looked out the restaurant window toward my 1991 Nissan Sentra (Razz-ma-tazz Berries Sentra) parked on the street. I’d guess that is… 1997? he said. Nice, G13. Expected but nice – for both Razz and me – since I had hinted it was the year I graduated from college. Off by 6 years. She’s spent her whole life in garages, I proudly beamed. And I’ve spent my whole life in crappy towns not smiling (before Chicago). Its preserved our skins. Sure there’s some rusting/graying at the edges, but the bodies are firm, its a solid ride and they just won’t quit when…OK, OK, anyway, my point is…what’s my point? Oh yeah, I think G13 could also pass ~6 years younger too – mid-40s. And that made all the difference.
I could tell G13 had a wicked sense of humor, as it spilled out every now and then. But we both had a mild case of pherstititus (first-date-itis) and you know how that goes – the borderline humor is more or less in check for fear of scaring the other person into answering the “emergency phone call” (we each got one and ignored them – although mine was from G14, not GG). I’m procrastinating talking about how I felt about him because…its so unexpectedly different than this morning’s date. Wow, that surprises me, and not in a bad way.
