I had an interesting experience yesterday. A friend who lives in L.A. visited, and told me one of his L.A. buddies (a 33-year-old screenwriter) saw my picture on an FB post and now has a crush on me. I must admit, that sort of thing hasn’t happened in a very long time, so I found it amusing and laughed it off. The next thing I know, I received a friend request from this guy, who I’ll call Bob, on FB.
I accepted Bob’s friend request, and within minutes he responded by messaging me. His opening dispatch thanked me for friending him, and told me he thought I was hot. Again, I laughed off the complement, telling him to wait until he saw me in person before making any kind of judgments, also reminding him that I was thirty years older than him.
We had a lengthy chat session about writing in general, but with each response, he kept flirting. Early on I let him know I am married, and chose not to encourage his flirting, but he kept going until he asked if Herman and I are monogamous. I told him we have been monogamous for twenty-one years, and plan to stay that way for another twenty-one years. He responded with, “That is so hot!!! When can I meet you?”
My first impression, I’m sad to say, was to judge him; I found him vexingly shallow. But then I remembered that I was much the same at his age, and needed to cut him—and myself—some slack.
Please don’t misunderstand, I’ve been around the block too many times to be a prude. What Bob or anybody else chooses to do with their lives is none of my business. They are welcome to whatever lifestyle they enjoy. And before I settled down with Herman, I was a big flirt myself. But I’m done with that, and I found Bob’s aggressiveness annoying, rather than flattering.
I guess my reaction to Bob is a combination of old age combined with being wholly contented with the man I married. Not only do I not need all that sexual tap dancing, I find it a waste of time. And believe it or not, I’m grateful to have reached that point in my life where I have no interest in flirting.