Yesterday on my way home from work, gave me two scenarios which provided me the idea for this blog post.
As I was trundling down to the bus stop, a couple of elderly ladies stopped me on the sidewalk and asked if I knew of an Irish Pub around the area. Since I was actually going to pass one of the Irish Pubs in the city on my way to the bus stop, I told them to just follow me and I could lead them to the door. Now, before you go on about my sweetness to little old ladies, to me this is just polite. I mean, why give them directions and then walk a pace or two ahead? That’s just plain rude! So anyways, as we’re walking down to the pub we get to talking. The two ladies are recently widowed (who’s names I kid you not, are Vivian and Verity), and have been friends for nigh on 50 years. And now they’re travelling around Australia together visiting all the Irish Pubs that Australia has to offer. Which is pretty damn cool. Like a Monopoly pub crawl but nationally and irishically (is that a word? if not it is now!).
And honestly, it was the most fun I’ve had in a pub in a good long while.
And so we say our goodbyes, exchange phone numbers, and they promise to look me up the next time they’re in Canberra. And while sad to think, considering their age and the amount of alcohol they were consuming, may not happen, but it would be nice if it did.
As I stroll out of the bar, a pretty young blonde lass (she was a child, couldn’t have been more than 19. And will everyone please stop assuming I’m an evil lecherous hump) runs out of the bar, gives me a quick peck on the cheek, links arms with me and says “Let’s go sweetie.”. Now since I have never seen this girl before, I’m a little bemused, but there’s a pleading look in her eyes that makes it seem like I should play along. So I just nod and walk around the corner.
She thanks me profusely as we get out of sight of the bar. She had been waiting for a friend of hers when she got surrounded by some unseemly characters, that well, we’re not being very gentlemanly. I hadn’t even noticed her, cackling as I was with mad abandon with Vivian and Verity. But apparently the uproarious laughter from our table, had drawn the young lasses (Hayley) attention, and she had concocted her own plan of her escape which involved me playing the exit strategy.
She asks if I wouldn’t mind waiting with her at a cafe somewhere, cause she was a little rattled by her encounter. While Mass Effect 3 was burning a hole in my briefcase, the male chauvinist in me is just unable to say no to a damsel in distress. And so I take her to a coffee place, just across the road to wait with her until her friend shows up. I try to unrattle her nerves by trying to repeat some of the jokes Vivian and Verity had told me, but I just don’t have the sass to pull most of them off, but I think she appreciates the gesture. She tells me that she’s from a small country town about a 12 hour drive from Canberra, and she’s just moved to the city, looking for a job. I give her a few helpful hints and some contacts I know within the small but thriving job recruitment community here in Canberra, and I finally get her to do a big belly laugh as I tell her my awkward adventure involving midgets and a strip club. Her friend rings her after about an hour and a half of chatting and comes picks her up. We exchange numbers and she makes me promise to ring her. I tell her that I will but I can’t promise any time soon, cause well… MASS EFFECT 3!!!! She laughs and goes off with her friend, giggling like the school girl she was, only a few months before.
And there you go. Those two, social interactions pretty much sums up what kind of women I seem to be attracting in my life recently. The sassy matronly/grandmother types who seem very keen to set me up with various daughters/grand daughters (there are currently 4 ladies in my office that fall into this category) and/or love to tell me jokes that would make your hair curl, and then the age inappropriate girls, who are far too young, for me to comfortably be able to picture them naked, let alone do more than that. (every other single female that comes into my life, the oldest has been right on the cusp of acceptability being 26).
Why I attract these particular age brackets I’m not quite sure? “Immaturity” would answer the question for the younger demographic, but this cancels out with the “mature” answer that would be the reason I could find for why the older demographic seems to find me entertaining.
Maybe I’m just not that amusing to my generation. That would explain a lot of the strange looks I get from my friends whenever random thought processes escape the Tim Burton-esque Alice In Wonderland sideshow that is my mind, and accidentally come out of my mouth as a totally random question. Maybe my sense of humour jumps a generation, funny and insightful to the baby boomers, and witty and non-sensical for the Gen-Y’ers, but totally unfunny for Gen X’ers.
And before anyone goes on about age is just a number, well no, it’s not. I was a snotty, self-involved, spoiled, narcissistic, brat when I was 19.
I’m no longer snotty at 33. *grin*