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Voodoo Dating: Mouths of Babes

August 6, 2010
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I would like to believe there are others who hold prerequisites for dating: mostly because I don’t want to be the only tall, leggy, beautiful (vain) blonde in the States. I’ve had three prerequisites since I was eighteen and if someone catapulted themselves into ‘all of the above’ they were pretty much golden.

One other request, outside of my prerequisites, was that the person I was seeing be older than me. I think I started this in my twenties when all four thousand people I was dating were younger than me. While it definitely kept me young, the immaturity (on both sides) began to drive me up the proverbial wall. There are many positive things younger Cats can do for someone a couple years their elder, but maturity and romance are not usually agents in these endeavors. Thus, I supplemented myself with the idea that meeting someone several years older would make every little thing peachy. ‘Cept then I went on a black diamond of dating people twenty, nineteen, and fifteen years older than me…but I digress.

Dating young-uns isn’t bad at all. The one major upper I’ve experienced is feeling like a badass when you casually mention that you have a date with a nineteen year old and you happen to be thirty-one. (Well, I thought it was a major upper until I mentioned it to my Brother and he asked if my date’s Mother was picking us up.) Realistically writing, though, for a Chick who was completely shot of any and all confidence at the time, dating someone twelve years behind her sounded pretty hot. The date was nice by several standards, but it cemented my opinion that Boys between the ages of fifteen and twenty-seven need to be placed onto an island with a couple of porno mags and an etiquette instructor.

So, what had happened was…

One day before the ‘Date’, Mr. Nineteen politely inquired where I would like to eat. This was pretty considerate and almost shocking as I hadn’t been on a Dinner Date since I was about eighteen…take that however you will. The flippantly ‘humourous’ side of me joked ‘Taco Bell!’ A word to the wise, the fifteen to twenty-seven crowd takes you seriously on all levels. Although this crowd is cute, many are so concerned with attempting to please their dates that they fail to catch humour and formulate original thoughts. Fortunately, I adore Taco Bell, so I was willing to look passed my bean burrito and soft taco minus-the-meat and scavenge onward.

Armed with the previous knowledge, when asked what I would like to do next, I called upon my sixteen-year-old self and she suggested visiting a park and swinging. (I would have thrown booze into the mix, to absolutely channel my old sixteen-year-old self, but my date didn’t drink…being nineteen and all.) So we chatted and swung for several hours: enough time to be able to tell there was no future in the fix, but plenty of pleasantly spent hours.

Then, Dear Readers, my curfew appeared as well as one memory of being a teenager, which was hot-rodded back to me. Mr. Nineteen was pretty proud of his car (as most Boys that age are) and especially proud of his car’s sound system (see previous parenthesis). Now, remember driving around with teenage Boys-occasionally Girls would do this too, but Girls were a little brighter than Boys when I was a wee-and the means they would employ to impress Chicks? Remember looking at a Boy and blinking in disbelief because you could see gearings grinding while they searched for an impression which would equal removing their clothing and squawking around like a Rooster? Finally, imagine the squawking replaced by the HIGHEST LEVEL OF VOLUME AND BASS AVAILABLE within the Boy’s automobile. This nation of vibration was my car ride home and it was all shades of loud.

Serendipitously, I did have and took advantage of an opportunity I’ve always wished for when I was a teenager stuck in that situation. I listened to the bass thumpin’ for about thirteen seconds and then screamed.

One last pro for dating young-uns is that they will watch you scream, un-offended, and laugh at their own immaturities right along with you.

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3 Responses to “ Voodoo Dating: Mouths of Babes ”

  1. Beau on August 7, 2010 at 12:16 am

    He didn’t know what he was doing. Me at nineteen was awesome. Just saying

  2. ron on August 9, 2010 at 4:47 am

    Do NOT Complain when YOU date Babies,GET A MAN!!!!!!

  3. Sara on August 9, 2010 at 10:26 am

    Dear Ron,
    1. Read a little closer, I don’t believe there was a series of complaints.
    2. I’ve never dated a baby. I’ve dated babes, though.
    3. Got a man, thanks.
    4. Interesting grammar you have going on there.
    Sara

    Dear Beau,
    You are awesome.
    Sara

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