Originally, this was going to be a restaurant review. Especially since this is Restaurant Week and all. And the food we had last night was excellent. It ended up turning into something entirely different though. (I wanted to call this post The Viagra Monologues, but decided against it in the end, figuring that title would definitely doom it straight to everyone's spam or junk mail folders.)...Anyway, let me begin at the beginning: My 20-something niece Brianna and I were out looking for a fabulous dress for me for the Best Of RI Party at PPAC next Thursday. After stopping at two boutiques on Main St., EG, we made our way over to the restaurant, also on Main St., where earlier in the day, B. had made a 6pm dinner reservation for us.
It was such a beautiful night we decided to sit outside. (OK, I let her choose.) After ordering wine and some local oysters to start, I noticed that two white haired, (much) older men had been seated at the table beside us. No cause for concern, right? No doubt both were old enough be my father and Brianna's grandfather. (Do the math - my guess is 70+.) It didn't take long though before one of them started trying to chat B. up. Aggressively. Again, she's mid 20's. He had to be at least 65, in the same ball park age wise as her father actually....Yeah, I've always thought 70+ Harrison Ford was hot, but trust me, this guy was no Harrison.
Now, I'd heard about scenarios like this, most recently from a strikingly pretty 20-something working in the beauty industry whose name I can't reveal, but who confided to me how brazen the 50 and 60+ men are about hitting on her whenever she's out and about with friends on any given Thursday, Friday or Saturday night in Providence. Long story short, she has no interest in dating or sleeping with anyone her dad's (or granddad's) age. And neither does my niece btw, who also happens to be extremely pretty, smart, and sassy - In other words, she doesn't take any shit from anyone!
So, heck yeah, I'd heard stories, but had never ever been so up close and personal for anything like that. Until last night, that is. Little did this guy know, however, that I was taking notes for the blog about everything he was doing and saying (in my head, between sips of merlot) and that Brianna is a good sport (She's laughing at you buddy. Just. Sayin.) - because he actually thought he had a chance. (He) Definitely wasn't giving up easily. That's for sure. In fact, he was pulling out the big guns, bragging and name dropping like crazy. There was the 100K car he was supposedly going to buy this year. The millions he's made over the years. All the real estate he's apparently owned. And even how he was going to be having dinner this Saturday night somewhere near Taylor Swift's house. Ha! My internal monologue by then was going wild and sounded something like this - "Uh, yeahhh, grandpa, we've both been to the Ocean House before. Many times...She doesn't need you to take her there, k?" (B. did ask him repeatedly if he had a son her age. He didn't like THAT at all!)
In the end, he (aka, white haired dude) ended up trying hard to convince us to meet him later at another restaurant close by. Oy. Vey. Once I told him, over coffee, that my husband and B.'s friend Chris were on their way over though, he made a hasty exit, almost as if he were going to turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of 9pm or something. It was also around that time (give or take) I had a realization and began to feel very badly for all the single women in their 30's, 40's, 50's, and 60's out there, on the lookout for quality men. I mean from what I saw last night, many of their male contemporaries are probably way, WAY too busy trying to chat up college coeds, recent grads, etc, to even sneeze in their direction. Seriously. I mean I could recommend getting a rescue dog and joining a book club. Or channeling all your energies into spending time with friends and taking the absolute best care of yourself. But the sad reality still remains. We still have dozens (and dozens) of grey or white haired dudes, running around out in the atmosphere, trying desperately to latch on to girls that they probably need to pop Viagra to keep up with in bed - all because they're terrified of getting older (Google Peter Pan Syndrome when you get a sec.) or because they need to be the (absolute) power broker in the relationship and call all the shots. Or both. No matter how you slice it, it's pretty pathetic.
Ciao For Now,
Photo Credits: Wine glass photo courtesy of me and my I-Phone. Thumb nail of coffee cups courtesy of Ashley Farney. To see more of her work, click here.