I’ve been using the term LOL lately because apparently I’m retreating back into a 17-year old girl.
But LOL is the only thing I can say about this week’s Toolbag Tuesday—an ironic assessment because it’s about a guy who dumped someone my exact age (31) for being too old.
My friend Amanda was out at bar last week, the night of Mardi Gras to be exact, dancing the night away and saw a cute guy on the dance floor who looked like he was in his 30s.
His name was Grant and he sidled up to her and he started bumping butts, spinning her around and paying 100 percent attention to her.
Amanda recognized him from a weekly social bike ride she does in New Orleans and recalled she had actually checked him out several times.
After a slow dance and another a round of drinks, Amanda said they…ummm….may have kissed right there on the dance floor to the brass band.
Happy Mardi Gras!!
Grant and Amanda then walked to the bar together and he bought her another drink, got her number and they started talking about what they did, where they lived, where they were from, etc. etc.
She said they spent the entire night side by side, Grant glued to her, chatting her up in a surprisingly intellectual conversation despite the alcohol consumption.
But then they started talking about how old they were.
“Oh, I’m 12,” Amanda said jokingly. Grant responded with, “Oh, wait…hold on….this might not work. I’m 47.”
Then it was time to be serious.
Grant, who Amanda said looked about 35 said he was 27 years old.
“And how old are you?” he asked, with his arm around her.
She gave him a playful look.
“30?” he asked.
She gave him another playful look.
“Just a tad older…” she said.
Then Grant made an ugly face.
“Older? You’re OLDER than 30?” he asked, with this horrified, ugly face.
“I’m…thirty…one,” Amanda said.
That’s when she said Grant pulled his arm away from around her and bolted.
“I…uh…gotta go find my jacket,” Grant said abruptly and then completely disappeared.
He never came back, even though he had just bought a fresh beer. Never said bye. Never called her or texted (the number HE asked her for) and didn’t show up to the bike club that week.
Quick! How to make a hot, happening 31-year-old girl feel old and decrepit.
So I guess being 31 didn’t matter when he was MAKING OUT WITH HER on the dance floor and making plans to see her again.
SORRY BABE, I KNOW WE REALLY GET ALONG AND ALL, BUT I CAN’T POSSIBLY BE WITH SOMEONE WHO WAS BORN BEFORE 1986.
But, even if that was a deal breaker (four years, though?? Really???), there are much classier ways to handle it rather than Usain Bolt-ing out of there like he just found out she had the measles.
Grow up Grant.