I'm 62. That's 62 years of age. Not 62 inches tall because I'm not. I'm 60 inches tall if I stand straight. Which I don't. Stand straight, that is. So I'm a short, round old woman with two bad knees that make me wobble and lurch...
you get the picture. I'm old.
And someone wants to date me.
He's a nice guy, named John. Not a romance hero by any means. He smokes too much and talks too much. I think I say a sentence once every 15 minutes. But... he's nice. And he has a good heart. And he likes me. I mean, I kind of don't really see myself in a relationship because I just don't and I don't always answer his calls and I haven't tried to get together with him and then I called him with a work thing and he practically jumped through the phone and was like "yeah! And then you'll have lunch with me!" and I said yes because he was so happy saying it and I was like, okay...
I want to be excited but I'm not. Why can't I see myself relaxing into dating someone? Everyone tells me that companionship is worth it and again, he's a nice man and I'm too old to really believe that one of my K-Pop boys is going to wake up tomorrow wanting an old, broken woman.
Is it possible that I really do like myself enough not to need another? Is it because my vagina is old and uninterested? Am I waiting for Hawaiian George Clooney? Or am I so damned scared I can't even acknowledge it?
There's a part of me that thinks maybe I can go to his house and just hang out with him. Maybe we could watch a video and just hang out. Maybe if I could stop thinking about how much I don't want to date I could just be.
Anyway, it is a compliment to have someone excited about going out with me. I just wish I was excited also.