I come from a family in which pet-owning is almost mandatory (it's amazing that I've gone as long as I have without a pet myself), and so it should be no surprise that animals are drawn to us. One such animal is a beast of a dog that my grandpa inherited from my uncle. He's an old soul, he's probably on his last legs, and he's fixed so that the only damage he can do procreation-wise is maybe some light dry-humping. My sis started moving into a house a few blocks down from us and brought her two dogs with her, one male and one female. I go up there occasionally to visit, and wouldn't you know that the dog that lives with me and Gramps has to follow me up there or sense my presence and arrive some minutes after I have. Of course, it could be the female dog that gets his attention; she's fixed, but you wouldn't know it by how much she likes to jump around. Like I said, the worst that these two together could get up to would be some dry-humping. But it's still nice to think their passions might co-mingle.
Sometimes I feel like the older male dog when I'm talking to girls in Clemson, which is where I have to spend a significant chunk of my time because I work downtown. I'm in my thirties now, and I've never really had anything resembling a "relationship" with a member of the opposite sex. Mostly this is my fault, but it doesn't help that, in some of the circles I ran in as a much younger person, the girls I knew were superficial, stuck-up, and tethered to dickless wonders of boyfriends (not bitter much, am I?). Now, with a more healthy view of myself (for the most part), I still feel a little like that guy who would get all worked up over a girl, only to find out she's unavailable, and thus give up entirely.
"Bros before hoes" probably didn't exist as a phrase when I was a kid, but it's long been the code by which I live. Simply put, if a girl would cheat on her boyfriend with me, why wouldn't she cheat on me with some other dude? Also, the karma retributions are manifest; let's say her last boyfriend gave her the gift that keeps on giving (i.e., some sort of VD). I get to pass that on like a chain letter.
I've been thinking about this lately because I'm so old (well, to my mind anyway) and the girls I meet are literally girls, between eighteen and some point in their early twenties. Women my own age, around here anyway, are all married to their second or third husband, tied down by a litter of malcontent kids, and somewhere on the wrong side of "letting it all hang out." Plus, I suspect that a lot of them are on meth. You see a lot when you work in the customer-service industry, as I have for most of my working life.
I guess it's just a question of what I want versus what I can get. When all your experiences have been mixed, it's hard to know when you might actually have a shot. I still sometimes make the mistake of thinking just because a girl says "hi" to me that she wants my body (a reasonable assumption, right?). I remember once, when I was working at the Clemson university library, I'm pretty sure an older woman hit on me. If she hadn't reminded me of my grandmother (because when I say "older," I mean "remembers where she was when Kennedy was shot" older), who knows what might have happened? Then again, I could have been misreading the signals.
My options are thus: girls who are younger but not hung-up on any age difference (I'm thirty-one, not seventy-two. If they want to date me, it won't be for my money), women my own age who aren't attached and are looking (harder to find in this area), and crazy old ladies who want to mother me and shower cash on me like I'm some child prostitute that their husband brought back from Thailand (okay, bit of a stretch, but I'm thinking outside the box). I say all this not as a means of generating sympathy or even a pity-whatever (though that would be nice, it would improve my batting average). I'm just tired of meeting the love of my life and then meeting her handsome husband, to paraphrase Alanis Morrisette.
Also, if any rich older ladies see this and are open to it, I can be your boy-toy. I hope you like 'em a little on the love-handles side.
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