After last night's revelry at McCarthy's
It was a strange thought, me dating a younger man, considering I've never done it and actually have a thing for older guys. Not wrinkly, gray and smelling like Aqua Velva, but more like salt and pepper, sipping on Dewars and remembering what life was like before PC was cool.
This guy was anything but that. At 24, he still had a little bit of baby face left around the jawline and an accent that sounded like a one-way audio trip to Eastern Kentucky. My #1 Gal Pal and I were sitting there, minding both our beers and our business when I spotted this guy staring me down. Baby Face was rather obvious about his interest, what with he and his compadre standing there in the middle of a very thinned out bar. The little gestures he made betrayed his efforts to be incognito... the little head nods in our direction, motioning to the two of us sitting there happily alone.
At first I thought he was pointing out the two of us to his friend, being that they were a pair and we were a pair... a foursome would have only been natural. But no, the friend disappeared, and so Baby Face made his way to our stools... positioning himself squarely between my #1 Gal Pal and me. His gaze immediately shifted my direction, then it washed over my entire being. He made his acquaintance as he soaked in my physique, my one bare shoulder and my freshly flat ironed hair. After our pleasantries were exchanged, Baby Face went on to tell me about how he was hoping to go to law school next fall and that he some day would be the governor of Kentucky.
I asked him about his political affiliation, to which he proudly responded Republican, rattling a long list of affiliations and connections. I have a little bit of Republican in my past, so I traded names and learned we had several people in common. I dropped the fact that some of those very people he holds near and dear to his heart would likely call me a Yankee Bitch if my name were brought up in conversation. Baby Face went on to say I was beautiful and full of integrity and honesty. It was all I could do to prevent from throwing up on his loafers, instead replying that I felt like he was campaigning for office and that I was unsure he'd get my vote.
Baby Face then said he had a whole life of campaigning where I was concerned.
Oh. My. God.
I told him I was a member of the media gasp and that I was older than him. Light years older where personal experience was concerned. He guessed 23. He guessed 24. My giggling started when he guessed 25. My thumbs up sign motioned for him to keep going up until he made it to the stark reality of my 28. I have come to terms with my being firmly planted in the upper 20s and am ready to get on to the 30s.
Baby Face went on to caress my bare shoulder, saying I didn't look my age (Well, thank you, I think?) and that the late Governor Louie Nunn once told him that age really didn't matter in regards to love. I was kind of shocked by the forward nature of his interest, considering the other two men I'm dating right now seem to be big time fans of the tactics of Hard To Get.
If a girl could take a shower in compliments, then I would have gone home as fresh as a daisy last night. I was a bit irked that Baby Face could not maintain his composure, instead extolling my many virtues and beauty. I asked him, begged him to stop and made repeated attempts to steer the conversation to something a little less obsessive. Do you have any siblings? Are you close with your family? Where do you see yourself in 10 years? So, where do you hang out here in town? But the compliments continued, and that's when I reminded him I felt like he was running for office.
Then he started leaning into my face.
Like... leaning with whole body force.
Well, hello, I thought, as I noticed how much the bar had filled up, and how I noticed that everyone else was noticing us.
Baby Face puckered up his lips and went in and I cocked my head away. He tried to nuzzle in closer, and I bowed my head down to my chest. My whole body language was reeking "For the love of God, I don't want to be kissed."
Then he started whispering. "C'mon, kiss me."Funny, because that's exactly what I was thinking when I left my apartment that evening: I want to kiss a strange boy in the middle of a now-crowded bar.
Oh, if only this guy knew a thing or two. He was really kind and very smart, with just the right dash of cockiness, which is the perfect recipe for my perfect mate. However, his absolute disregard for my intentions was quite unbecoming.
But I kissed Baby Face anyway.
It was all I could to shut him up, what with probably a good 10 minutes of practically begging for a little lip attention. They were short and sweet, but I was none too pleased that I had to remedy the situation that way.
Baby Face started whining a little bit when my #1 Gal Pal (who had long ago vacated the vicinity and taken up dancing with a nice, Irish lad) came back and rescued me with an It's time to go look. Happy to comply, I told Baby Face no, I was not going to let him drive me home, but that this was the juncture in time where he could ask me for my phone number if he were so inclined.
It's so easy to decline a phone call by an unrecognized number.
Hopefully Baby Face finds a nice girl who wants to be the perfect politician's wife. I'm sure she'll feel much more comfortable with selling out than I did last night.