My son is my age!  How is that possible?  Last night we celebrated his 29th birthday and that is pretty much the age I think I am.  Give or take a few years.  Of course, I know I am not and I am reminded of that every time I get vertically ambulatory or try to make some physical parts work as they once did but, mentally, I feel much the same age.

“So, I said, to K, his beautiful young partner, “can we talk and be hip together or is everything I say so tainted with age that no matter what is uttered, it sounds old-man geeky?” 

K smiled and said, “Pretty much everything.  You’re old.  Face it!” 

You’d think that would stop me.  It didn’t.  I cracked jokes, flirted benignly and did my best Andy Rooney impression.  You know?  Without trying?  Rampant eyebrow growth tends to make that Andy syndrome happen, I think.

K laughed at the first joke.  It was genuine, I think.  She smiled generously at the second and even managed to respond graciously to my pathetic little old man’s flirt but I caught her eyes looking for an appropriate exit.  That’s OK.  I have come to recognize those desperate, furtive glances of ‘trapped prey’ looking for a way out and I generally make it easier for them.  “Hey, K, I know what it’s like.  It’s god-awful.  Being trapped in a conversation that no amount of previous sin would warrant.  I get it.  You are free, my child.  Fly!”  

“Huh?!  No!  Like………….no………….well……..uh, thanks……………uh….see you later…”

And I am pretty sure she likes me!

The other day, we were at a do and everyone was OK, I guess.  One guy stood out visually as a resounding snot (only missing the ascot) and I had to verify my assessment-at-first-glance by going over and introducing myself.  I offered my hand and he took it with what was quite obviously a dead fish that had been grafted in place of his own hand.  Must be some sort of neurological disorder, I thought.  Maybe not.  He was gay.  He was Eastern, American, a Jewish intellectual and he was also a lawyer.

There is nothing wrong with that.  None of it.  No, really!  But, let’s be honest: that is a combination that can go wrong; so horribly wrong.  And M was horrible in the extreme.  Somehow he managed to look down his nose at me and we are of equal height!? 

He also barely deigned to acknowledge me despite my pleasing manner.  And kept gently backing away while openly looking for an escape route.  I provided his exit permit early.   

“Hey, M, I can see you have something else to do and it is pressing if not an emergency!  Please don’t let me hold you up.  Go, man!  Get out while you can.  It will only get worse!”

He grimaced a smile and was gone.  I watched him head over to the other side of the room where he stood alone adopting a statue of Liberty-like pose but with his arm down.  He was only wanting for the draped gown and a crown.  But I have to admit, the lighting was better there.  He was magnificently posed.  Good merchandising if nothing else. 

I turned to his partner, “Geez, man.  Did I say something?  Is it my breath?  You need to escape, too?” 

“Nah, I’m good.  Don’t worry about M, he’s paranoid.  In this day and age when everyone has hidden voice recorders and the cell phones take pictures, he’s afraid to say anything.  He works in the US government, you know.  Doesn’t trust anyone.  Especially strangers  Not even here in Canada.”

“But this is a party!  I have never met the guy!  Does he get the ‘par-tay’ concept?  He’s just a lawyer.  He is no Justin Timberlake, I can assure you!  ”

Partner just laughed.  We cracked a few jokes.  I resisted flirting (it wasn’t difficult).  After a few minutes he left.  All was right with the universe again.

I dunno.  I sure didn’t feel the love.  Maybe I am just not cut out for modern era socializing after all.   But I am definitely tempted to get a small voice recorder I can squirrel up my sleeve.