I went on a date last night.
The woman who set me up had asked if I liked older men and in my minds eye I saw Harrison Ford from Six Days Seven Nights. A sexy vibrant older man with a little grey sprinkled into his thick head of hair. I pictured Sean Connery and his regal magnificence in First Knight.
I imagined the mature, easy going nature and intelligent conversation that I would have with an older man and I said “YES. I do like older men. As long as they aren’t too old.” And I told her the story of Larry. Larry was a guy that my sociology professor had set me up with. (I think because of my lack of dating experience people are always wanting to help me) He had also asked if I liked older men and I had said yes.
I nervously prepared for the date as it was one of my earlier dating experiences. Just a few minutes before my date was scheduled to arrive there was a knock on the door. I went and opened it expecting to see my date. Instead I saw a dark skinned man with thinning, graying hair and a bit of a pot belly standing there looking for all the world as though he was expected. “Oh this must be Renae’s dad” I thought. Renae was my roommate and she was part Maori so the coloring clued me in. “Are you here for Renae?” I asked. Thinking that I needed to hurry and finish my hair before my date arrived. “No I am here for Vilate.” he replied. I’m not sure what reaction my face had but I can tell you what my insides did and it closely resembled that feeling you have just before you don your rubber gloves and prepare to unclog that toilet in the men’s bathroom at the roadside gas station.
It was a long date and as we sat in the burger joint eating and talking, in my self conscious and possibly shallow mind, I could only hope that all the other singles in the place where thinking that he was my dad.
It was a little harder to maintain that illusion as we pulled up to Trafalga and began a round of mini golf. After all who goes mini golfing with their dad. I felt the urge to shush him as he loudly asked those first date type of questions. And I was relieved when, after what seemed like an eternity, we pulled up to my house and I could fumble my way through the goodbyes and escape to the shelter of my room.
So that was Larry, The woman who was wanting to set me up this time assured me that he wasn’t THAT old.
So a few day’s later when my phone rang and I didn’t recognise the number perhaps I should have been expecting it to be this man calling to ask me out, but It was the furthest thing from my mind. Instead, I heard the tell tale signs of an elderly man on the other line and I expected to hear him inform me that he worked at the temple and I had left my name tag there again. Or something else like that.
But no, he told me his name was Sam and that he had been given my number by our mutual friend. I told myself that a voice doesn’t mean anything, after all, she had told me that he wasn’t THAT old.
Last night when he came to pick me up I was still getting ready so when there was a knock at the door I yelled down for him to come in and wait in the living room while I finished. I was feeling all kinds of pressure to look good because he had informed me that our friend had described me by saying that I looked like a runway model, and that if she was correct driving from Salt Lake to Provo to pick me up would be well worth the drive.
Who doesn’t want to live up to that kind of expectation?
So, I had done my best to… well to look the part of the runway model or at least the Mormon version of that.
Coming down the stairs In a tight black skirt and 5 inch heels I felt about as self conscious as I had as a child when my mom would try to get me to pose for a picture. Fortunately my behavior since then has improved and there was no temper tantrum. In fact there were no tears at all.
As I came down the stairs and faced the man sitting on my couch I could feel his eyes moving from my feet to my head and back again. WOW was all he said. I could have said the very same thing.
Sam had a very grey full beard, glasses and that papery looking wrinkled skin that sort of accumulates around the elbows of old… ahem older… men. I don’t know why after all these years I still have illusions that “older men” means something interesting, sexy and intimidatingly smooth. That it means smile lines and little crinkles around the eyes, when the truth of it is alot more along the lines of Colostomy bags, loafers, and 21 year old daughters.