Next week I celebrate another birthday. The earth has gone around the sun one more time, and yet I don't feel any older. Apparently, the men around here don't think I have gotten any older, either.
I have two interested in me (again! Why is it always two!) One is nine years younger; the other is 16 years younger. I have yet to figure out why either is interested, but, judging from our conversations (and my ongoing,almost interrogative questioning,) they are.
I admit that I am more interested in the older one. I have met him, and while most of the first date did not go as well as I had expected, his kiss afterwards was so passionate, and our conversations have only added fuel to that fire (and his voice makes my knees weak!) We are already looking forward to our next date (which, unfortunately, cannot happen for another week, due to our schedules.) But we are keeping in contact, and getting to know each other very well.
The second has not met me yet, and can't for another week and a half. And I have a feeling he may be nudged out of the way. He is nice, and we have had good conversations, but nothing beats actually meeting someone in person.
So getting older might just actually mean getting better. Perhaps these two gentlemen truly embrace what Benjamin Franklin said when he wrote "In Praise of Older Women."
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