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February 2, 2007

Oh little boy ... would you like some candy?

A few days ago I was at Faith and Michael's new house (which is so gorgeous and perfect I keep trying to move in, stealthily) and they were having a new shiny stainless steel stove delivered.

The delivery guys they hired also removed the old appliance and installed the new one and while I am sure that is all very compelling information, mainly what you need to know is that one of them was VERY VERY HOT.

WITH DIMPLES.

And you know, he looked kind of young, sure, but we started chatting and he was saying how he didn't just do this delivery job but also he was kind of a handy man, really good at fixing things and also plumbing, and did I happen to need any services like that? And I thought, boy, do I ever! That thought was immediately followed by, wow your dimples are cute and also here is my phone number!

I figured I could break something real quicklike that would need some fixing. Ya'll know.

Later Faith and Michael laughed at my magical powers of Flirting With Hot Delivery Guy. And also kind of asked, how old do you think he was? No, really, didn't he look a little young?

I ignored them.

And he called. Indeed he called. But he seemed a lot younger on the phone than when I talked to him in person. After some very adorable hemming and hawing, and also I believe after he used the word "party" as a verb, he said "Hey, so uh, you think maybe we could like, go out or something? Sometime?" and I knew I could put it off no longer. I asked him The Big Question.

"So. By the way. How old are you, exactly?"

He was quiet for a minute.

"I'm old enough," he said. "Besides, age is just a number..."

"Ah, yes, but really ... quite an important number," I said. "So, how old are you?"

He paused again.

"I could show you a really nice time!" he assured me.

Right about then is when I sort of thought I heard a "Dateline NBC: To Catch A Predator" crew setting up for a camera shoot on my front patio.

"No, really, I need to know how old you are," I said. Getting nervous and nervouser.

"Um," he said. "Twenty-one?"

It's not good news when your potential date is adding years onto his age AND THE NUMBER HE ARRIVES AT IS TWENTY ONE.

I sighed. Politely and sadly, I informed him of my (real) age and then after some awkwardness we hung up. I don't believe I would look good in prison-issue orange. And also, I'm not sure it's a good idea to go out with guys that you have to CARD FOR I.D. to make sure they're of age ... not to mention aiding and abetting someone if you serve him a glass of wine. Whoops, I think I hear the Dateline NBC crew again.

I guess that giving him my real age sufficiently scared him away since he never called again, which of course is for the best. I don't want ya'll to have to visit me in jail.

But he was really cute. While it lasted.

Posted by laurie at February 2, 2007 8:58 AM