Working in retail, you sometimes get these bouncy young men, 23 years old, with the audacity to float around your orbit and flash a big, bright, overgrown puppy smile saying stuff like, “Hey, I like you. Will you date me?”
“I’m probably too old…”
“How old are you?”
“I’m 38…”
“I’m 23. We’re both adults.”
Eyerolls. “I could be your mother.”
“Really?!”
“Yes, your teenaged pregnancy, Gilmore Girls style mother.”
“I don’t care. Here’s my number. Let me know when you’re ready to go on date.”
…
I threw away the number.
I’m not dating a 23 year old. It’s not happening.
Also — was he really 23 or did I also need to check a Driver’s License? —
I don’t care. I want a Millennial Man.
(With a bit of facial hair)
Virgo Sun Pisces Moon 