When the guy you crash into asks you out for a date.

This sounds so much better than it actually is. No, this is not the meet cute scene in my next romantic comedy. It's my life. And the dude was sixty-eight years old! I know this because we had to exchange information after the unfortunate incident. I think I'm too young to be asked out by a sixty-eight-year old--I'm forty-two after all. Wait a fucking minute, do I look like I'm sixty-eight! Is it really that bad--or is it just that when you're sixty-eight you can't see shit and think a forty-two year old is a sixty-eight year old. Maybe when you reach the ripe old age of sixty-eight you very simply do not give a rat's ass any longer and just decide to go for things--what did he really have to lose. Pretty great actually. 

The funniest part is this--I had just come from the eye doctor and wasn't wearing my contacts. I was in my granny glasses--actually my very chic Ray Ban Clubmaster eyeglasses with the pale wooden vintage frames. I think I look pretty cool in them, but perhaps in reality I look like I belong in a nursing home and therefore could be a contestant on a geriatric dating game. Apparently they do not give me the peripheral vision I require. This was evident when I plowed into the frisky oldie in the Whole Foods parking lot.

"You are a fine-looking woman--now do you have a man in your life? Because I'd sure like to take you out for a good time."

My friend James told me, "Congratulations! You've still got it!"