I’m sitting at a bar in Park City with some older friends, yes, older than me … and a couple 30 somethings come up to order a drink and start chatting us up or we started chatting them up … it just depends on your perspective. In any event, the topic quickly switched to dating and the conversation with these women looked like this:
Women: So, are you on Tinder?
"How the hell do you meet women??" one of them finally cried out. To which I replied, "We are talking to you aren’t we?" Touché…
Dating sucks, period. It didn’t used to be this way…for fuck’s sake, it should not be that way now. But it does. You’re a guy in your late 40s, early 50s and you feel like you've got the world by its balls, but then you go on one meaningless date after another thinking one of two things: One, this chick is hot and I would love to see her naked, BUT I never want to talk to her again; or, Two, this chick is great -- smart, funny, witty -- BUT I never want to see her naked. The trains just don’t meet that often. So, you finally say, "Fuck it," and let yourself get fixed up by people who really know you…friends that you trust. Then, you go on one of these dates set up by friends that you trust and you leave that date thinking: WHAT. THE. FUCK? Why would they set me up with that crazy loon???
It’s exhausting. These 40-something women are all pissed. Bitter their ex-husbands fucked them over in the divorce… they had to go back to work… their exes don’t have anything to worry about and their lives are great now… the piece of shit ex-husband cheated on them… they don’t have enough time to do yoga every day… Blah blah blah... Who wants to listen to that crap? I just wanted to go out for a nice dinner and not eat alone for God’s sake.
BUT...then I’m out one night with a few of my friends, smoking a good cigar, laughing, drinking scotch... AND BOOM. A bunch of women in their late 20s -- scantily-dressed ladies (and I do use that term loosely) -- show up and want to see what all the hype about hanging out at a cigar bar is. They are immediately drawn to our area, and one of our crew casually tells them to just order what they want, and we would be happy to entertain them all for a while. They love the fact that the servers know us and the manager gives us a wink. When the flirting (theirs) starts to increase, I say, “Honey, do you have any idea how old I am?” The response comes back “38, maybe 39” …to which I reply, “I'm flattered. But, I’m 52.” ...and then I turn back to my boys. Not a minute goes by and there’s a tap on my shoulder and this chick with a body out of Baywatch casually says to me, “I don’t care…”
WHAT THE FUCK? You don’t care??? My immediate thoughts go to my daughter, and I freak out thinking that if she ever says that to some guy my age when she's in her late twenties, I will kill him. And then her. This is why I have a concealed carry permit and a plethora of handguns.
But the truth is, these girls are funny, bright, and sexy with great career paths. They are tired of dating man-children who can’t afford to take them out to dinner anywhere but Five Guys, who spend way too much time grooming themselves, shaving every hair off their entire bodies while dousing themselves in AXE Man Spray, or some shit like that. These girls want to experience fun on a higher level with someone who can teach them about the finer things in life... with a guy who knows what he is doing in bed and isn’t some two-pump chump, premature-ejaculator whenever his pants come off.
All of a sudden, this girl is showering you with attention and can’t get enough of you in bed, in the shower, wherever… She wants to play, but she respects you for having children and being a great dad. There’s no bullshit…no illusion that you’re going to end up with this Millennial and make a bunch of babies with her so that you can watch from your wheelchair as your ‘new’ kids graduate high school. But WOW, for now, it’s a ton of fun.
The sex is fantastic and she loves that you have chest hair and your five o’clock shadow is gray. She tells you all the time how sexy you are and how she's just happy to be with you, drink beer at a Tigers game, wear a little (and I mean LITTLE) black dress out on the town for you, and rock the hell out of cut-off jean shorts at the pool like Daisy from the Dukes of Hazzard. And, the fact that she doesn’t have a fucking clue who Daisy Duke is? Perfect!
When your body is sore, she wants to put on your dress shirt from earlier in the day “to smell like you” and rub you down from head-to-toe. She loves the fact that you own something, anything, and don’t live in your parents’ basement.
BUT, she will want a ring, eventually... and a family... and a married life... and you won’t be able to hide her from your own family and kids forever. You'll need a companion who was actually born before Bush Senior was President...even though your boys high-five you at every opportunity and only refer to her by age and not her real name. Sometimes, you too forget what her name is for a minute and just call her “29” ...and she loves that too.
Whoa, she sure did make dating fucking fun again …