I let it slip out how old I was the other day. After finishing my game, I was talking to the girlfriend of another player. She was his girlfriend when this guy was on my team, so we knew each other that way.
I had mentioned that I was asked to play in the over-35 league, but I didn't want to because it would mean playing more often (and after I tell you how I fared on a two-game weekend, you'll be asking me to take up gentler pursuits--like remote clicking).
She looked at me quizzically, not believing I was old enough to be in an over-35 league. She said she would have never guessed. She's at least the third woman in recent times that has told me I looked younger than I am.
I don't make this stuff up, but then again, I haven't been hiding the numerical fact either.
I'm going to have to stop mentioning my age. It's probably not a good pick-up line either.
But it is just a number, just as my phone number is just a number. Neither of which has meaning.
The new cologne I have, though, seems to have gotten me attention. One from an older woman in a toll booth, and then another from another young woman I know, who told me I smelled nice (or was it the cologne smells nice on me?). Either way. It was a compliment. Take 'em where they come.
Polo Blue.
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