I fondly remember the days when I was the youngest one in the bar. Those days when I went out with my friends Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and, oh yes, Sunday nights, then got back up on Monday without a scar. When did those days pass me by? Oh yeah, the minute I aged past 21 and realized I had to be at work the next morning and contribute to society's productivity.
While my age doesn't normally plague me, I've been getting a few young bagels lately that look at me with the eagerness and optimism that can only be described as the naivety of youth.
Let's start with Dancing Bagel. I met up with him on a whim a month ago and we grabbed some dinner. He was really sweet and seemed to be so excited by the world around him. I ended up mentioning that I like to dance and, as if I had told him that he just won a million dollars, his eyes lit up as he exclaimed, "Oh my gosh I love to dance also! We should totally go dancing together!" First: what straight single man announces his love of cardio pop dance on a first date and expects a second date? Second: what stranger invites another stranger to get sweaty with him in a public dance studio while shaking your booty to Britney Spears?
The rest of Dancing Bagel's date was pretty irrelevant and I left wondering where exactly I lost my exuberance for life (who am I kidding? I probably never had that exuberance). Since that fateful night, I receive weekend texts from Dancing Bagel asking me what I'm up to and telling me to notify him if my friends and I "wind up going dancing." After never having taken him up on any of his invitations, he escalated the offer to dance classes after work. I'm not sure if he thinks this would be a fun date activity or if he just needs a partner in his pas de deux.
I just got home from a date with Chef Bagel. Once again a year younger than I am, Chef Bagel piqued my interest with his proclaimed love of food and cooking. Many of our texts included his boasts of creating culinary delights - he even made his own pasta by hand (and no, he does not have a pasta maker - trust me: that was the first question I asked)! When we met, he asked me one quick question about work, then we immediately started to talk about food. He told me at least 30 meals he's made in the last few months and #humblebragged about how his friends always come over to his place to eat his cooking (or is that just a normal #brag?).
I can't in good faith say anything bad about Chef Bagel, but I ended up getting agitated that he only seemed so excited when he told me about how he prepared his lamb last night, more details about his pasta adventure, and the various other home cooking experiments he performs. Agitated and hungry. At the end of the night, we grabbed some #hipstercoffee (siphon coffee) and were quizzed by our barista about the flavors, acidity, and balance. I noted the flavors I tasted and how I felt about it and asked him what he tasted. To my amusement, I was met with a "I don't really have a good palate for distinguishing subtle flavors." Cue the face palm. You went on for a full two hours about your culinary expertise, then admittedly state that you do not have a good palate? That's like being blind and telling me that you are an amazing painter.
Oh Baby Bagels, you're really sweet, but I think it's time I change my age preferences to 30-50.
