Yesterday morning Robby and I packed up and left for school a few minutes early so that we could drop off our traditional 9/11 cookies at the firehouse. I love Robby's excitement and enthusiasm when he is able to do something nice for others. He was grinning from ear to ear when he presented his treat. Of course, he also became incredibly shy, leaving me to do the talking.
As we drove away from the firehouse my mind was spinning. I kept thinking about the man who answered the door and accepted the gift from Robby. Okay, to be completely honest my thought process was purely primal. Specifically, I was thinking that it was fortuitous that was a good thing he was a fireman since he was smoking hot. As I allowed my mind to briefly wonder and imagine the lustful possibilities, I glanced in the rear view mirror and was immediately brought back to reality.
I viewed this individual as incredibly attractive. He viewed me as a middle aged Mom. After all, why wouldn't he see me that way. I am old enough to be his Mom. I was, in effect, also a dirty old woman.
My epiphany led me to again reevaluate my age. I realized that men whom I find immediately attractive are no longer in my age category. While I still feel spry and young, I cannot deny that I am middle age. Men in my age group are no longer overtly youthful. Instead of sporting tight shirts and bulging muscles, the majority of men in my age group are battling both receding hairlines and bulging tummies.
I'm happily married and not looking for an extra curricular affair, which is good because I now know that my real age and my own perceptions of my age do not align. Mentally I still feel like I am in my 20's. Unfortunately my body and face do not echo the same sentiments. I suppose eventually my fantasies will have to align with reality. Sigh. I really hate growing up!