I love my friend Jayme, I really do. But ur um... she took it upon herself to help me get back on the dating trail (I did not ask for nor want this assistance) by giving my phone number to one of Owen's (her hubby) friends. Okay, yes - I may have mentioned that after dating a man almost ten years younger that mayhaps I needed to see the other side of the spectrum. But I certainly did not mean this week and I did not mean to swing that far to the other side.
Owen is 52 and still fine. (Sorry Jayme, he is) He and Jayme still look good, get out, hang out - it's all good. With them, 50 is the new 35 and it's working. But for some reason, they decided to give my number to George. George is sixty-two. Yes, I know I'm in my forties but I'm not there yet. I'm not ready to date GrandDad.
George called and introduced himself. He then explained that he saw my picture on The Facebook and thought I was a "cutie pie." He further went on to explain that just because he has eight grandkids, that doesn't mean he can't still "run game" and "get his swerve on." I'm sorry, I immediately thought of the Boondocks episode where GrandDad meets Krystal from "The House of Cheeks" and tries to turn a hoe into a housewife. Not that I'm the hoe in this comparative scenario, I'm just saying the older guy, younger women thing doesn't always work. Oh... and the term "cutie pie" should be reserved for children under the age of ten, puppies and re-runs of Dance Fever.
For those of you who missed the episode - get into it here and thank me later. (My favorite part comes at the 4:30 mark) NSFW - do NOT get fired behind some Boondockery, okay?
I have no problem spending time with folks older than me. Most of my best friends are 5 - 10 years older. My godparents are 85 years old and some of the coolest damn people on the planet. I could hang out with them for days and still be tickled. This dude asked me if I knew how to "shake what my mama gave me" because he still liked to step out to the spot with a "pretty young thing" on his arm. Provided of course that I knew how to "handle my bidness" in the bedroom and the kitchen. He can't stand "no woman too pretty and siddity who can't cook all over the house." Noooooo!
At this point, I pressed the Mute button and started furiously texting Jayme.
M: Who IS this dude?
J: Oh, George called. You like him?
M: Dude just asked me if I know how to make boysenberry pie. He has eight grandkids. He is questioning my bedroom game and offering to show me a few things. No, I don't like him.
J: Wait... what?!
M: Uh yes.
J: Hold up a minute.
J: (she texts back in a few minutes) Sorry about that. We set you up with the wrong George.
M: There's a different George?
J: A younger, less ratchet, no grandkids George. Owen mixed them up.
M: Good to know. Not interested right now.
J: Aw, you sure? He's a great guy.
M: No doubt. Yes. I'm positive. Later.
Can we all pause to send a collective laser beam side-eye to Owen. Dude!? Okay back the shenanigans...
GrandDad George was still talking about the things he liked his woman to cook and how he wanted them prepared. And yes, he was referring to more than pie. Eww. And. Ick. I cut him off and told him to call Owen back because he wanted to talk to him right quick and hung up. Later, George sent me an email on The Facebook telling me that he was still willing to teach me some things and to contact him when I was ready to learn.
I'm not ready, ya'll. I'm not ready...
Have you ever had some friends set you up and then you wondered what the hell they were thinking? Wondered if they ever really knew you at all? Do share... Thoughts, comments, insights on the George of it all? Ladies could you date GrandDad? Fellas? A hook-up with Madea in your future? Inquiring minds want to know...