Once upon a time - let's say in my "early 20s" - I dated a 35-year-old man, which my friends now refer to as "Old Balls."
Thirty-five now, perhaps now so old. But, 35 then was 11 years my senior, and probably a little shocking to some. Who knows, I was trying on dating older men for size.
For the most part, it was kinda fun. He was a Patrick-Demspeyesque with salt and pepper hair and a British accent. He called me up for dinner and drinks nearly every night, and he didn't play the usual cat and mouse dating game.
But then I'd have my "20-Something, You're totally bat-shit" moments. Like when he hadn't ever heard of Sublime, (HELLO! Clearly not in my generation.) Or when he did this kinda dorky sway thing the elbow jives while dancing, (Oh, so 1980s). Or when he gave me the thumbs-up (Sorta like a history teacher or your creepy older uncle, or something worse). And then there was the absolute worst--one time he actually put classical music on right before coitus, and I was reminded of that episode in SATC when Samantha broke out in opera crescendo. Gak. I'm from the generation where we put on R. Kelly's "Bump and Grind" or some good ole' LL Cool J!
These are just some of the moments that made me say, "Oh this really just isn't for me." But, I was just too caught-up to recognize it quick enough and express it. Or too young. Who knows. But it wasn't long before he did.
He explained to me one night how isn't "wasn't working out" and he's at an age where he needs to "think about settling down" and find a "life partner," which more or less wasn't a 24-year-old girl who drank six nights a week and couldn't even utter the word marriage without upchucking the beer she just swallowed.
So, eight months later he was engaged to a Russian chic that he met on Match.com, and now they have a little Piroshki in the oven.
Guess he wasn't joking.
Currently Feeling: Like my boyfriend is the greatest.
Currently Anticipating: Last kickball game tonight and beers at Lenny's!
Currently Loving: This scramble thing I just bought from a little place in my building.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
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3 comments:
When did we stop calling him "The Brit"?
Also I think our generation should totally bring back the thumbs up. It's radical.
Old Balls has beat out "The Brit." Don't you think it's SO much better?! Although he's tagged in all these posts as "The Brit." I might just have to change it over.
This post should have been labeled "Coming to terms with an ex getting married."
He's probably not the first and won't be the last. And you'll probably be compelled to write something each time, right?
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