Saturday, 19 March 2011

In which I need a little lie down

I haven't been properly single for a long time. I was with my last boyfriend for three and a half years, and the one before him for two, and the two before him for six months each, and if I'm honest, there wasn't much of a gap between each relationship. If I'm actually honest, there wasn't any gap at all. This means I haven't actually been on the look out for hot men since I was nineteen... which explains a lot.

Last week, I was driving to work, and as I got to the bottom of my parents' driveway, this gorgeous man ran past. He was gorgeous. (And just to be clear, he was running in a keep-fit kind of way, rather than an escaping-from-the-law kind of way.) While I accept that 7.45am, while I'm in a car, isn't exactly the ideal time to meet a man, the village I live in is pretty small. Everyone knows everyone, so I was confident that I could probably track this man down later. Sure enough, mere seconds later, I saw him run past my youngest brother, who was on his way to the bus stop - and he waved at him! Score!

I then promptly forgot about the incident until a few days later while I was drinking wine on the sofa with my mum, and when I remembered, I realised that I wasn't sure if he had actually waved at my brother, or just gestured in a "thanks for moving so I can run past you" kind of way. So when I asked if he remembered a guy running past him in the street several days ago, I wasn't really expecting him to - but he did! The conversation started well (started being the operative word):

Me: Really?! Do you know him?!

Youngest Brother: Yeah.

Me: Really?! Who is he?!

YB: Callum.

Me: Callum. How do you know him?!

YB: He works with me at the brewery.

Me: The brewery. Is he nice?!

YB: Er, yeah.

Me: Excellent. Excellent. By the way, how old is he?

YB: Nineteen.

Nineteen? Nineteen?! WHAT? When did nineteen year olds start looking like that? Not when I was bloody nineteen, that's for sure. He looked at least my age. Older probably (I'm very youthful). But nineteen. And that's when I realised - nineteen year olds look like men now, but I can't date them. Same goes for pretty much anyone up to the age of twenty five, which means that I am going to have to be very careful indeed. Can't go round fancying nineteen year olds. No good will come of that.

NB. It is only as I write this that I realise Callum was born in the Nineties. Dear god.


  1. I used to flirt outrageously with one of the coaches at my gym. One day he made casual conversation with me and at some point during the chat, asked me how old I am? His eyebrow raised at my "I'm in my late-20s" reply. He announced that he hadn't thought I was that old.

    I asked how old he thought I was? He said 22. I was flattered.

    Assuming he was 21 or 22 himself, I turned the question back on him.

    And you know what? He was 17. Not even old enough to order a drink in a pub.

    I still feel a bit dirty.

  2. Ah, the horror! Still, you've made me feel better! A friend's little brother hit on me at the weekend, and I felt like a cougar - although at 21, he was at least old enough to drink.