I lost my mind this past week. I'm convinced of it. You see, after poo-pooing liaisons with The Twenty Almost One Year Old Hottie Hot Pants on account of his a) age, b) inability to compose text messages that did not include "words" like 'nyc', 'joakin' (joking, I think), 'gna' (going to) and 'please call me', and; d) job prospects (none), I seemed to have a complete change of heart, and decided to actually meet up with him for a drink.
I think I may have even fancied him. Who could blame me? The man is a good 8 years younger than me, and everyone wants to have a brief affair with a much younger man, so I thought I ought to knuckle down sooner rather than later. And, as God is my witness, I really tried quite hard.
I engaged in text message conversations:
Twenty Almost One Year Old Hottie Hot Pants: Hey panty um is ur surname pervert?random bt curious (smiley face).
The Pant: No. Panty Pervert is another teacher. I used to work with her. I'm Panty Liner.
TAOYOHHP: Haha u thnk?so it is pervert?
Now, forgive me for feeling a touch confused at this point - but how could the boy not get "I'm Panty Liner"?
And so I decided to ring him:
TAOYOHHP: Hey Panty. Look, I saw your picture in the newspaper and I know you're getting married soon so it's all good.
TAOYOHHP: I saw your picture in the paper. It said "Panty Pervert" "soon-to-be-married".
TP: But I'm not Panty Pervert.
TAOYOHHP: But you said you were.
TP: I said "I'm Panty Liner".
TAOYOHHP: I thought you were being sarcastic.
TP: No. I was being perfectly serious.
TAOYOHHP: Ok. Cool. So, you're not getting married?
TP: Not as far as I know.
TAOYOHHP: So can we like hook up and like stuff like?
TP: (considering proposal, and considering the good it would do for my self-esteem, not to mention the street cred it would buy me at the next book club gathering) Ya! I mean, hell yeah! Big time. Radness.
TP: Yes! Radness.
TAOYOHHP: What does that mean?
TP: That will be nice?
TAOYOHHP: Oh like, ama-zing?
TAOYOHHP: Ama-zing is like amazing for old people.
To be quite honest, in spite of the fact that Twenty Almost One Year Old Hottie Hot Pants almost gave me cardiac arrest when he 'joaked' that he was seventeen to which I responded, "Good God! Don't ever phone me again, Child. I could get fired! I could get arrested for even talking to you," I was really quite looking forward to meeting up with him at the infamous Pan & Kettle.
I was looking forward to going on a date and having complete confidence that the little mite would be totally taken by me because in his eyes, I am a cougar - several thousand times above anything that he would be able to pick up at a trance party in Lion's River. Also, there wouldn't be those other normal considerations:
1) Please let him have a decent surname in case I fall head over heels in love with him and end up marrying him;
2) I wonder if he breeds well;
3) What the fuck am I going to wear to make me look as thin as possible?;
4) I hope he doesn't have too much of a potty mouth for when I introduce my future husband to my parents - Father in particular.
You see the facts were: He's a little hottie hot pants, and I aint never introducing him to anyone.
But by the time Friday evening rolled in, I'd fielded numerous calls:one from The Brother in which he openly mocked my cheap attempt to feel youthful;and one from Carlos in which he begged me to go out wearing nothing but a scarf as a skirt and a push-up bra to maximise the tot's street cred. And then it happened: Reality Check of monu.emtal proportion.
The toll of spending an entire week working (sure, for a salary that, at least puts me in a position to have surplus two ply toilet rolls hidden beneath the bathroom sink -evidence of a real home) I lost my will to smash beer cans against my forehead and use words like 'ahwe'and 'ama-zing'. And so I politely retracted agreement to meet for drimk optimg to rather sleep.
And here's the thing with the younger steed: 17 missed calls and 2 texts, one of which included phrases like "miss u"and "luv u".
Reality Check #2: it' really unfair to cougar little tots.