They Call Him Limpy

Mission Impossible

One thing that I find frustrating is when people can’t hold up their end of the deal! We’re all aware of our shortcomings and am not saying they need to be public knowledge, however, don’t set yourself up in a situation where you know the outcome will do you dirty!

Not too long ago, Pete the Freshman posted some information about older women and the whole cougar phenomenon. Now, I do not yet consider myself a cougar – and honestly hope that I never have too!! However, talking about the whole dynamic got me interested in the concept of a younger man. Hey – I am not having the best luck with guys my age and even the older ones so what the hell, right? I figured I’d test the theory. And so it begins… I am totally going to hell for this…

A while back I had visited an old friend for a little rest and relaxation. We had a lot of fun catching up and consuming massive amounts of alcohol! Throughout the long weekend, we went out to different bars/restaurants, watched football, and hung out with his close friends – all of which were so much fun and all male hehe! On football Sunday, a good friend of his comes over for the afternoon. Visually, he is not my type so I don’t pay much attention. He is about 5 ft 10’ and a little overweight but seems really cool.

Shortly after his arrival, we decide to go to grab some food and beers and watch the game. As the day progresses, this friend of his (I’ll call him Mr. Softie) and I are really getting along, laughing – cracking jokes, talking about our jobs … essentially flirting and having a great time. It turns out he is about 6 years younger than I, but he seems to really have it together. Before we part ways for the evening, we all decide to meet up the following night for a big dinner to celebrate my last night there.

Fast forward— The next evening we all meet up at the restaurant and have an awesome dinner with many, many sake bombs. We then go back to my friends house for after hours. At that point, Mr. Softie asked if he could kiss me to which I responded, “You blew it man, you should have just gone for it – You killed the moment”. He then turned into a bit of an ogre and mumbled to himself and fell asleep.

I myself could not fall asleep due to the volume of the television and couldn’t figure out where the remote was to adjust it. After searching around in my drunken stupor, I ask Mr. Softie if he could check and see if he was laying on the remote. At that point he gets nasty with me and refuses to even check.

He sneers, “I’d like to scratch your eyes out!”. Wow…

I respond, “Boy, am I glad I didn’t make a mistake with you tonite!”

He responds, “I am SO glad I didn’t kiss you!”

My reply, “HA! IT WASN’T YOUR CHOICE!”

Good Times! Ok – so eventually I go to sleep. Upon waking, I go into the living room and Ms. Softie is already gone – what a relief! I get my bags together and head to the airport but I am still a little bothered by what happened the night before since we had, had such a good time prior to the end of the night fiasco. I talk to my brother about it when he picks me up from the airport and the consensus is that it can be remedied, however, an apology is warranted. We’ll see…

I get home and there is an email (as he didn’t have my phone number) from him with a lengthy apology. I accept the apology and we actually stay in touch – it turns out that he is actually from the area and would be visiting in the next month. We decide to meet up then.

ARRIVAL OF Mr. Softie- I pick him up from the bus stop and we head to my fabulous (it is… I can’t lie) apartment for a bit to get ready for dinner. Dinner is great- we go for sushi and drinks and then back to my place. Here is where the night flat lines…

I say that I am going to change into sweatpants – I did NOT use the phrase “Slip into something more comfortable” – just for the record! After changing, I go back into the living room to find a scene from an old Seinfeld episode, a rather famous episode where George – a little overweight bald guy is having a portrait painted of him on a chaise lounge in his boxer briefs…Only no one is painting a picture of Mr. Softie. Are you with me?? Catch my drift??

I just look at him and my mouth drops!

“Okay then!” Inside I am dying at this point!!!

I try to forget the image and things began to get a little heated for the moment. We decide to go to the bedroom – possibly test the theory???? Ready for lift-off…. Um uh oh… Houston we have problem!!!! Is this thing on???

Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, the flight didn’t end up taking off! To compound matters, he then tells me that this happens often. TMI!!! Is this date going to be a therapy session – ugghhh! I decide I am too tipsy to deal and I opt to count sheep!

What a disappointment! A few days later, my girl and I are conversing on our way to my apartment. She is too funny—going on and on about how wrong it is of Mr. Softie to put himself out there knowing that it would amount to a disappointing false start! As we walk in the building, I go to check my mail. I am an animal rights girl so I often get mail from organizations wanting donations… I grab the donation envelope and I look down to see a picture of a wolf in the wild and the title reads, THEY CALLED HIM “LIMPY”…

You can’t make this shit up!!! Unreal…