I’m not sure how this story relates to aging (maybe you can suggest a connection). However, I’m feeling compelled to share it with you.
Sherry and I like to eat at this fancied-up bar and restaurant where couples often meet for the first time after searching numerous websites promising to bring new love into their lives.
The food is mediocre, and we aren’t much for drinking, but we can count on seeing the best entertainment in town.
Last night was no exception. The woman showed up first, chose a corner table and prepared herself to make a fabulous first impression. She worked on getting her hair just right, finger-combing a wisp of bleached blond hair to touch her right eyebrow. She wasn’t sure whether to cross her legs or not and finally chose to keep both of her peep-toed pumps firmly on the floor. She chose not to wear her blue-tinted glasses and slipped them into her purse.
A handsome man entered the restaurant and looked around. I could almost feel the lady’s heart leap with anticipation. Sadly, the man joined his wife at another table.
Shortly afterward, a short, slightly rotund cowboy burst through the door. He wore a white cowboy hat, a wide smile and big black boots. He looked like the kind of fun-loving guy I’d like to hang out with. He went right to the lady’s table and said, “Lucy, you look just like your photo.”
Lucy looked up, attempted a half-smile and spoke not a word.
Sherry and I were set for the next hour. You can’t find such entertaining drama on Netflix.