Date Two: The Youngun

In the 9th grade, I went steady with a 7th grader to make his older brother jealous. It worked on the older brother, but I lost interest and instead, developed a major crush on the younger boy/child.  I have thought about younger men ever since. It's funny to me that when I was in my teens, I preferred older men because of the way my friends thought I was so cool having an older man attracted to me.  And now that I'm older, I get a rush when I think about a younger man finding me pleasing to look at and delightful to hold.  

The Youngun was 10 years younger.  He found me on Yahoo! Personals.  It started simply enough with a few emails here and there, followed by phone calls. Then the big day came when he surprised me at work.  I recognized him immediately.  He had sexy bedroom eyes.  The kind with long lashes, and the way he worked them was sinful.  We went to lunch and had easy conversation that flowed well.  There was a nice connection between us that I was intrigued by.  I guess the word is CHEMISTRY. Oh, yeah!  Sparks fly and I think the tips of my ears are going to burst into flame when he gives me that first goodbye kiss.  

The same day we had lunch, but hours later around dinner time, he calls and asks if I'd like to get a bite to eat.  Twice in one day.  This one is really interested! Well, how nice is that because I feel that way too! We decide to meet at my art supply store/gallery and walk across the street to the same sidewalk cafe that the pizza delivery guy and I met at. Only this guy pulls up in something better than a green hornet.  Way better.  It's a convertible Mitsubishi Spider....black.  The bad guys always wear black and ride black horses.  These are the men women love to hate.  The bad boy. And this one is bad.  I can tell by the way he looks at me.  I start to drool when he steps out of the car and the breeze throws his scent my direction.  We have already exchanged one nice, rather quick kiss when he left at lunch time, but the one he greeted me with...it  blew me away.  

I'm in trouble and I know it.  Although my marriage ended amicably, there hadn't been any sexual contact for a long time and before that, only seasonally. 

 

"Look, honey!"  One of us would say,  "It's the first day of Spring.  Guess we should have sex."  

The same thing happened Fall, Winter and Summer. This went on for years before we finally stopped looking at the calendar, and then eventually, stopped having sex entirely.  It had been close to 2 years since someone had stirred my blood and I was buzzing with electricity.  The man could stand close to me and the hairs on my arm came to attention, reaching out in his direction.  Aching for attention.  Thing was, I didn't realize just how close I was to snapping.

We ate cheese and fruit at the sidewalk cafe and drank a wonderful wine that had my head spinning in no time.  We talked and I kept thinking about how young he was and I admit, it was bothering me a little.  I couldn't quite wrap my head around the whole 'Cougar' concept.  I didn't feel any older than him, and the chemistry was crackling like a Franklin stove.  We closed the place down around 11pm  and then walked back to my store.

It was a crisp night and I had been introduced to my new favorite cocktail.  A Washington Red Apple--shot.  Wow.  Tastes like a bite of a fresh apple.  The wine, the apple, the scent of his cologne, the bedroom eyes, his hands in my hair and I find myself pressed against the wall holding on for dear life.  OMG.  It's been YEARS since I'd been kissed with such passion.  I pulled at his shirt and tossed it into the air.  I practically did  a back flip as I threw him to the floor and had my way with him.

Afterwards, I was so embarrassed.  I stood up, ran my hands through my hair, straightened my clothing and prepared to leave the scene of the crime.  He stayed on the floor.  Right where I left him. He had rolled to his side, head braced on his hand and looking up at me with those bedroom/any-place-there's-a-flat-surface-and-we-can-get-traction  eyes.  I feel my face go blood red.  He looks like a Cheshire cat, and I wish the floor would swallow me up.  He laughs an evil laugh.  I nervously grab his shirt from the picture frame it had come to rest on, and throw it at him telling him I have to get home to let the dog out.  I hurried him out the door.  

I can't believe what has just happened. Where did Melinda go?!  The sane, rational woman I had been for two decades had disappeared for a moment in time.  I had completely lost control.  Evil smile.  And it wasn't so bad.  I even LIKED it.  But that didn't stop the guilt from setting in.  What must he be thinking of me?  Years of conditioning leave me feeling trampy and cheap that I had let things get out of hand like that.  My phone rings.  It's him, and I can't bring myself to answer it.  

I'll never know what he wanted to say that night.  I was so embarrassed and new to this whole dating thing that I didn't know how to handle the situation.  I didn't answer the next time he called either.  Or the text asking me to lunch the following day.  By then, I had convinced myself he was purely after sex.  After all, that's what I made him think.  At least I thought that's what he thought.  He's the one I'd like to have a Mulligan on. A do-over, because it might have been something more than something physical, but my fear and insecurities got the better of me.  I still see his profile online and I cringe a little when I see those sexy eyes.  I cringe from shame and from wondering if I let something special slip through my fingers.