Enjoying a recent happy hour with a girlfriend, when she looked at me with a big grin and pointed to a table across the room, where she spotted a man looking at me with obvious interest. I turned around, and the first table I noticed was occupied by four young 30-somethings. As I was flashing them my brightest I-know-I-could-be-your-mother-but-I’m-not smile, she burst out laughing and said, “No, it’s the man over there.” Behind the group of cute young pups was a distinguished-looking gentleman who had to be in his mid-80s, raising his wine glass and looking directly at me with a pleased expression.
Old men love me. They always have, and I have no idea why. This has been true since I was in my 30s. On business trips with female colleagues (often much older than me), they would get the hot young salesmen, while I would invariably be chased down the hotel hallway by Kenny Rogers lookalikes (thankfully before the unfortunate choices in plastic surgery). For years, I felt like some kind of menopausal trophy wife for seniors looking to replace their beloved Bertha, who passed away last year after 52 years of marriage.
Of course, the universe isn’t completely crazy. Like a cosmic match.com, it knows I’ve always preferred Robert Redford over Ryan Gosling. George Clooney, Harrison Ford, Sean Connery. Now those are gorgeous men. I’ve never been a groupie for the boy-next-door types, all Dockers and Polo shirts. But apparently God has a sense of humor, because my fantasies never included being stalked by 90-year-olds with walkers. Yet it seems my time has come.
Several years ago, when I was in my late 30s and living on Maui, I worked at the front desk of the Grand Wailea Spa, where I met a delightful older man (80ish) from Sweden, who travelled the world nine months out of the year. He came down to the spa desk every day for two weeks, and we became great friends while I ate my lunch, sitting in the spa lobby. Eventually, on his last night on the island, we had dinner at the hotel’s Oceanside restaurant and spent several hours laughing ’til our faces hurt.
Walter came to Hawaii once a year for the next three years, and we always went out for dinner, spending the evening getting caught up through hilarious anecdotes of our wildly separate lives. One year I asked him why he kept coming back every year just for one dinner. He laughed and replied, “Because you’re the funniest woman I’ve ever met and I can afford it, so why not?”
“Why not” was answered a few years later, shortly after I moved back to Oregon and Hubs and I got married. Walter called and was prepared to fly to Portland for our annual dinner, but Hubs was having none of that nonsense.
“My wife does not date,” he announced, in no uncertain terms. “It’s not really a date,” I replied. “It’s dinner with a good friend, who also happens to be 85 years old.” “I don’t care if he’s Rip Van Winkle,” he snorted, “You get dressed up, meet him at an expensive restaurant, yuck it up for four hours, then get home after midnight. In 49 countries, that’s a date, and my wife does. not. date.” Walter understood, and we parted ways. But he remains the poster model for Men Who Want Me.
Back to my reality, yesterday I was making a list of our weekend needs and I realized, to my horror, that it was going to require a trip to the local Walmart. On a Sunday. Two weeks before Christmas.
Historically, I’ve always tried to avoid any store that ends in the word “Mart” on the weekends, especially if it’s raining or simply too cold to be outdoors. It seems our entire little town thinks of Walmart as a weekend destination point during bad weather. And two weekends before Christmas? Oh hell, no. The only thing that would get me in there is the complete unavailability of the necessary item anywhere else in town.
Hot and crowded, Holiday Walmart is invariably filled with exhausted moms carting their over-sugared offspring screaming “Mommy, Mommy, Mommmmeeeee!!” with tiny, sticky fingers hysterically air-grabbing some unidentified, coveted toy until Mom caves and forks it over, or until Angry Baby collapses into a 1000-decibel, wailing heap, smack in the middle of the aisle where you need to be. (Um, excuse me, but your sobbing kid is kicking the air right next to my favorite shampoo. If you could reach down there and hand me that yellow shampoo bottle, that would be swell.)
As I clutched my list of can’t-find-anywhere-else-in-town-at-any-price necessities, Kenny took pity on me and offered to drive and load the packages, as long as he could wait in the truck while I did the actual shopping. Sensing that this was as a good a deal as I was going to get, I quickly agreed. The parking lot was predictably jammed, so he let me out at the door, promising to park close by.
45 minutes later, cart heaped with a half-a-dozen overstuffed plastic bags, I wheeled it outside and spied a white truck that looked exactly like Hubs’. I opened the passenger door, tossed in the bags, and hopped in with a bright, grateful smile, at which point the wizened, elderly Hispanic man in the driver’s seat burst out laughing, raised up his hands and looked skyward, exclaiming “THANK YOU, JESUS!” Red-faced, I scrambled out as quickly as I could, grabbing my bags on the fly. He waved goodbye with a broad grin as he called out, “Merry Christmas, pretty girl!”
I laughed all the way home.
So to the old guy with the quick and delightful wit, if you’re ever reading this, thanks for letting me know that even as we all get older, I’m still in the game. Merry Christmas to you too.
Vikki, this is BRILLIANT!!! I love everything about this post–very relatable to me. Even when I was a teenager, I got hit upon by men in their sixties (which of course to me, back then, was like having a T-Rex chase after me). You had me giggling throughout this whole post. Wonderful!
Love it! Still in the game, indeed….
Living in the South I have discover how to get mens attention. Or at least to wave. Own a pick up or something big. Men wave at Woman in truck. I drive a Dodge Durango. An it seems like every man of every age waves. An I don’t know anyone of them. I have also discovered Old an Fat don’t matter. I am both. The very young an very old like me. Add a good fish story an there hooked. As for the shopping well. I’d rather be fishing.
Great post! I love the part about Wal Mart!
So glad that you were above me today in the posting list and that I read this delightful story. I too have a sector of the male population that adores me…it’s BIG men. Tall or Big and Tall…don’t know why, but it’s my fate. Ha! You made me smile
I’ve always had a bit of a thing for older men – one friend called it a grandfather complex. Of course, that explains why my husband is just 2 years older than I am, doesn’t it?
I know exactly what you mean. When I was in my twenties and early thirties, before I met my husband of 14 years, I had several marriage proposals from old men. I wasn’t pretty or thin either. Never understood why. I have always fancied the older men as well, Sean Connery, Robert Redford, Sam Shepard, Sam Elliot (drool), loads of them, I always think that younger men have no sense of humour, and a lot of the older men seemed to ooze this promise, that they may be a bit older, but they knew how to do everything! If you get my drift! They also had the added thrill of being useful doing DIY around the house! lol Love your blog! Karla – Northern Scotland
This is hysterical. Everything about it. And I’m so with you on Kenny Roger’s plastic surgery. And Walmart too. I have this “joke” I made up about Walmart. I tell people that when you die, if you’ve been bad…you don’t go to hell…you go straight to Walmart. Ha!
OMG, you are seriously funny! When I was a teenager I dated older guys. When I got married, my late husband was 21 years older than me. Now that I’m in my 50’s and with someone in his 50’s, I realize at some point you have to start working backwards. The younger ones (40) are looking pretty good now! hahaha. You have the same luck as I have btw. Old men always tried hitting on me.
Funny!!!! Thanks for making me laugh this morning!
I should know better than to read your posts with liquid in my mouth (oil pulling). I had to spit before I could finish. Great story about jumping into the wrong truck.
This was a hoot! I have always attracted the ‘older’ men myself. 17 years ago I married an older man and I have not been sorry although I know I will soon be a widow…no younger man will ever be able to take his place. They are kinder, gentler, and have all their stupid teenage ways out of the way! Then I worked in a nursing home and the old men love hugging and kissing…..Thanks for the laugh
That is seriously funny!
Why does this not surprise me! You have the best stories – I would fly around the world to hear them!!
When you got it, you got it!
This may be the funniest thing you’ve written to date — and you’re a pretty funny gal. Loved it! (Also, I’m famous for getting in the wrong car, so I can relate!)
I love that you laughed all the way home about your Walmart faux pas – proves Walmart shoppers really do know a great deal when they see one (especially when they voluntarily jump into their truck); and also that you’re definitely still very much in the game! Thanks for sharing this! Loved it! :)
I can imagine the look on your face the moment you realized you were in the wrong truck! LMAO
Too funny! No dating and no picking up men in pick ups!
You go, girl! It’s not called a pickup truck for nothing! lol
That is hilariously funny! And I bet the guy in the truck will tell this story until the day he dies (even that day is tomorrow;). Although I totally hear you on attracting a “type,” the story of Walter is so romantic! It sounds like a movie…and then the dashing Kenny enters picture:)!
This was too funny! Just for the record, elderly white haired men seem to be smiling at me a lot these days.
You never fail to bring a smile to my face. Such wit, and a superb teller of human-life stories.
I too have always tended to attract older people (ladies in my case). Great when I was 15 (having a chance with older teenagers) not so great at 55 where many ladies 70 or over seem to display a penchant for me, while younger women, or even my age-equivalents, apparently have no interest.
Great post!
What a riot! Thanks for sharing your funny stories!
Absolutely great story and very well written. I loved it, especially when you jumped into the wrong truck. Hilarious!!
OMG Vikki!! That’s too funny. I feel bad for the man in the truck. He thought he scored and you had to run out on him:)
Vikki, this post put a big smile on my face first thing this morning, thank you! I’ve done that EXACT thing before – jump in the wrong car. So embarrassing! I like your attitude about it though. :-)
I am laughing so hard right now. This post WINS THE INTERNET today. #winning
Love, love, love!!!
This is so funny. I can’t believe you got in the wrong car! Well, actually, I can. And ps: It’s the hair Vikki, it’s always the hair.
Funniest post I’ve read today! Of course I can say that pretty much any day I am visiting your blog! Getting in the wrong truck is classic! At least you made that guys day!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! (Inhales..) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Classic! Love it Vicki!
Agree with Deb and everyone else. Also: “Historically, I’ve always tried to avoid any store that ends in the word “Mart” ” – I LOVE Vikki.
HAHA! Old men always liked me too. How awesome was the guy’s reaction when you got in his truck?? Awesome! Thanks for the excellent laugh today!
I found your blog a few months ago- I agree with Walter- you are the funniest woman I have ever read! As a woman about your age your humor just sends me & I can sooo relate to the older guys checking me out! thanks for sharing your gift!
Hi Vicki…I have to admit you “had me at the title” of this blog post. And while I think I have a pretty good sense of humor…it isn’t one of my particular gifts to be able to write it out…and that’s the exact opposite from you! This one definitely made me laugh and I have to admit that at our age…finding people to talk and laugh with (women or men) is a joy. Thanks for the reminder. !Kathy
What a great little story! And it’s always nice to know we still got it.
It’s good to be wanted! One time, not long ago, a guy pulled up beside me in his car and asked if I was single. I floated on that for a week. That hasn’t happened much since I turned 50.
The old ones love you, the crazy ones love me. You and I have bookend posts today!
Just the other day–on the PHONE–a wealthy retired executive invited me to live with him in his Hollywood Hills home because I have a “friendly voice and girlish and easy laugh.” I was chuffed. And tempted…The Hollywood Hills…
This is so funny. I have had the same problem most of my adult life. As for getting into the wrong car? I have tried to do that too.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter where it comes from as longs as it comes!
Vikki…..you will still have it your 80’s
I love your old date! And your humor!
Feliz Navidad!!!