Last weekend, I went to a college party. No, not one of those “back to school” parties where drunken adults reminisce about when they were oh-so-cute and looked 30 years (in some cases, an entire century) younger. I’m talking about an honest-to-goodness college party. Needless to say, this was all part of my ‘Demi Moore’ getup and after being coerced into going with Student Guy, I found myself outside a club on a Thursday night. I came, I saw, I drank, and then I left. It was a good crowd, not bad for college students, but dare I say it, oh so tame.
Not wanting him to feel that he was an illicit secret (who am I kidding here?), I decided that Student Guy and I should attend a girlfriend’s wine tasting party. He was polite and engaging while everyone speculated (openly) about our relationship. When someone finally asked the inevitable “So what do you do?”, he replied “I’m an exchange student at the university here.” Realizing there was no longer any purpose in trying to stifle rumors, I rolled my eyes and declared our relationship publicly. Fortunately, my girlfriends were all extremely supportive and not a single derogative comment passed their lips.
Thus began a whirlwind of activities that I should never have embarked on. I met him for lunch at his dorm, dinner after office, grocery shopping on the weekends and even double dates. If I didn’t hear about his homework and class schedule, I could almost pretend that I wasn’t dating a college student. Needless to say, I figured that I would be the one to initiate a breakup. Ha! I was so wrong.
One fateful night, Student Guy dropped the bomb that he wasn’t ready to have a serious girlfriend (are 20-year olds supposed to think about that?) and he was worried about missing out on college life. So bye-bye virile youth and lightning-speed recovery time. I was back to square one.
Being a nice boy, Student Guy wanted to remain good friends. And that’s how we found ourselves in a members-only club filled with my friends, abundant Grey Goose vodka and the requisite champagne. I made it clear to my girlfriends that my stint as a “cougar-in-the-making” had died a quick death and I was free again.
Little did I know that I wasn’t done with younger men, because along came Mr. F with a dazzling smile and a wicked eye out for me.
Fun piece. So much fun that I want to know more!