Cut Down in His Prime

I bit the bullet. I decided to put myself out on a limb and offer up myself for a date last night.

I met the boy in question at many a football social, but this time we met by chance at my gym. Actually, not completely by chance, since I know that he is getting physical therapy there, but I'm not so much of a stalker as to know his therapy schedule. Anywho, after a few rounds of hellos and verbal word play, we exchanged pertinent information like cell phone numbers and emails. On a whim and still listening to my gut, I sent him an invitation for a movie or dinner gathering. It seemed fitting since he had given me every indication of interest when I kissed him goodnight the previous Sunday.

Looking back on it, it seemed like a good move. I had enjoyed my potential date's company immensely the previous Sunday. He was really interesting, sweet, silly and a little horny. A good combination for me. Plus, of all the drunken football players that evening, he was the one I enjoyed talking to the most. I had some doubts but I always go with my gut instinct, and that is what I did yesterday.

But alas, dear Lavurn, sobriety or something else reared its ugly head because the boy in question, now mindful of his tender youth, reminded me of our age difference, and told me how sorry he was to lead me on. Well, I haven't put myself out there much, so it stung to hear him decline a simple gathering for dinner or a movie. I wasn't asking him to strap himself into a trapeze, or sign me up for Social Security benefits or anything. But all's fair in love and war, and so, I soldier on. This thirty-something boy has been put out to pasture. But you know what they say, right?

An old soldier never dies, don't ask, don't tell.