Love is, Love Ain't

Posts Tagged ‘age

And my number is 28. And I just found out that I have the potential to be a big pimpin’ cougar. Don’t laugh out loud because this is a burden and a blessing. Let’s start from the top. I work/study at a university with about 25,000 students. I meet a lot of them through the classes that I teach and the jobs that I work at, but when I find myself in places where a large body of undergraduate students gather, I become Waldo. I’m serious – try to find me – the 28-year-old grown woman with 2 degrees, 2 years of serious career related experience – and you won’t be able to find me. And this is my blessing. I look nothing like what I have been through.

But recently I realized I have to start asking for identification from the young men who ask me out. I laughed when the young guy at the grocery store ran to catch up with me and ask to take me out. He was a cutie pie – tall, caramel skin, short hair cut with the line to match – but when our eyes met, I knew he could not be any more than 17. “How old are you?” I asked. He flashed me those beautiful, straight teeth and said, “16.” As I walked away, I smiled ‘cause I will look like I’m 30 when I’m 70, but I realized I have got to be like the liquor store cashiers and start asking to see some ID.

I began to wonder if I was going to ask for ID so that I can keep things legal at all times or if I was just interested in dating only guys in a certain age range. Well, the other day as I sat at my office desk, a handsome young man came to the door and said, “How you doing?” I reacted like the police and said, “Can I see some ID?” He laughed and explained that he just wanted to get to know me. I asked if he played football, and when he said yes, I named my little boo boos on the team. He said he knew them. I told him to ask them why we don’t really need to get to know each other. He insisted that I tell him instead. “I’m 28.” His jaw (and his friend’s) dropped to the floor, and he screamed, “You look like a baby!” I thanked him, and he gave me his billion-dollar smile (I mean he had a gorgeous smile!). He paused for a moment and said, “We can’t be Facebook friends?” I laughed.

My colleague that witnessed the whole thing thought it was hilarious. But she said, “What’s wrong with maybe grabbing lunch or hanging out with him one day?” I said, “If he knows my boos, then he’s no more than 19.” “So,” she replied. That “so” has stayed with me. And no, Sistaoutsider (who I can hear saying “I’mma need you to stop”), I’m not interested in 19 year-olds no matter how handsome they are, but I do discriminate on the younger men a whole lot. Instead of revealing my standards, I reveal my age first. I’m 27 and you’re 23, we’ll never work. I’m 28 and you’re 19, we’ll never work. I need to practice more on making my standards show the maturity because age sure doesn’t. I’m interested in my career, and you haven’t chosen a major yet, we might not work. I could get married right now if the person designed for me asks me, you can’t even decide which young lady you want to kick it with tonight, we’re not gonna happen.

Don’t be like me and laugh in every baby face. They might be 28, 30, 33 – you just need to see some ID.


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