While visiting one of Manhattan’s trendiest rooftop bars we met a few gentlemen from England. They were young blokes – 21 and 23, but respectful and posh. They had a reserved section that was only 20% used, so I asked if we could join them. They kindly obliged and were rather gracious hosts.
As the evening came to an end, we went our separate ways. By morning, Live Longer was friends with one of them on facebook, we’ll call him Charlie, and I realized they may have paid for a round of drinks I had originally offered to purchase. I sent the young lad a message and friend request and, within seconds, we were corresponding. His cousin was still sleeping, so Charlie asked if he could stop by our hotel. It was early in the morning, we were still wearing yesterday’s outfits, had just finished last night’s dinner and weren’t entirely up for entertaining. “I guess we could go grab coffee or brunch with him once he gets here,” I told Live Longer. “Tell him we’re naked so it isn’t a good time for us,” she said, laughing. I did and within minutes he was at our door and trying to get busy with me. Sarcasm is often lost in electronic messages.
As I fought Charlie off, Live Longer went into the bathroom and curled her hair. He tried several moves, many of which I haven’t seen or experienced since I was 21. He laid in our bed and asked me to talk to him in there. I respectfully declined. He offered to take off his pants for laundering when I spilled a little of my coffee on them. He returned to the couch and tried to kiss me, I declined again and again. Finally, after approximately 30 minutes of trying, he looked at his watch and said, “Oh my, I’ve just noticed the time, I must go. I need to get to the Jersey Shore.”
As soon as he left Live Longer exited the bathroom and started laughing. “He is half my age!” I told her. “Even at 42 you can have a little 21 in ya,” she quipped. “Sorry, Charlie,” I said and added, “You aren’t getting any of this good tasting tuna.”