Blast from the (not too distant) Past

And so, only three weeks into the new year, I have broken resolution number three. I have decided that is okay for the following reasons:

1. He's 27, so he's in his late 20's...which is almost thirty. And thirty is totally acceptable.

2. He has a child who is only 2 years younger than my child. My friend Tamara has an interesting theory: When calculating the age between two people, you don't count the years between the two of you. You should count the years between your children. She sets the age at which you become a parent as the onset of adulthood. So, according to Tamara, he is only two years younger than I am. He is 33, which is pretty damn old compared to my past dates. And totally acceptable. (I have no idea how Tamara calculates the onset of adulthood for the non parents. It probably has something to do with not bitch-slapping your idiot boss and knowing never to take your coworkers to that bar where you're known for doing body shots and Debbie Gibson karaoke.)

3. I saw a couple recently with a much larger age span. Dear ladies, you should never attempt a bare midriff when you are old enough to draw social security. Anyway, I remember thinking that her son (sitting next to her) must be appalled. Apparently, not her son...and not appalled. The make-out session was vomit-inducing. So, if Midriff Mawmaw can date 20 years younger, then I can at least contemplate dating a man 8 years younger. Moral relativism: I gotta say, I'm a fan.

The story: I call him BB. It's short for Baby B(insert last name you're not allowed to know). We went out a few times last spring, but then he took a job out of town. It was never anything serious, but he was sweet and fun...and very affectionate. While he was away, he contacted me a few times and asked me out...but I was knee-deep in the Muscles fiasco. Last month he moved back. He met me at Christmas party, and then I accompanied him to a Christmas party. We talked a few times. Last night he asked me to dinner. I said no because I am sickly at the moment. His response was, "Then I will bring you soup...and a hug." I told him I wasn't hungry, but that maybe we could have dinner next week when I was better...or that he could come visit me at school and we could have lunch where the cool kids eat. He said, "Aww...so you don't wanna see me, cause that 'sometime' was vague...if it's an actual invitation, like 'how about lunch next Tuesday at noon' then I'm there. Now how about just the hug? I'd like to see you and waiting until next weekend (when my kids are gone) is kinda far." Of course I said yes. He showed up, not with soup, but with a Diet Dr. Pepper - this is basically my crack. Since I was feeling icky, I wasn't looking my best: pajama pants, tank top, pony tail. His first words: "Awww, look at you. You're the cutest thing I've ever seen in pajamas. And no heels! You're so cute and little. Now gimme a hug, drink your dr. pepper, and we're gonna watch Top Chef cause I know it's your favorite show."

And so we did. He watched the show with me. He pretended to be jealous over my crush on Fabio (Top Chef Fabio, not the but-tah guy). He offered to make me dinner when I was better to prove that if accents and cooking skills were what I wanted, then he would make crawfish etouffe while attempting his very worst Cajun accent. He made me eat saltines. He rubbed my shoulders. He held my hand. When I told him he was going to get sick, he said, "I read some fancy medical article that said that cuddling builds antibodies. Now snuggle up next to me and feel better. I won't kiss you...well, maybe just the top of your head."

Now, I dare you to NOT find that charming.

I'm not sure how I feel about this situation with BB yet. I'm still a bit wounded from the Muscles dealio. But, we shall see :)

Peace, My Lovelies

Annabelly