Dave is…
Old.
I found that out this evening when I was leaving the library. The streets were pretty busy with people celebrating their lack of work tomorrow. Amongst them was a crowd tumbling off a party bus parked on West 3rd. Cleary bridge and tunnelers and clearly hammered the crowd of girls were falling all over.
I was still a ways away walking toward them when one girl made a beeline for me.
“What’s your name?” she said. When I replied Dave she put her arm around me and led me back towards her group so I went with it and put my arm around her. As we walked back to her group she told me, “We’re going to Town Tavern,” like it was some kind of achievement. Town Tavern is a generic boring frat type bar, pretty much identical to the vast majority of bars in Long Island and Jersey so I dunno why this group decided to rent a party bus to come into the city to go there but I gave her a sort of indulgent, “oh yeah?”
Then she asks me how old I am and when I say twenty-six she pulls her arm back like I’m suddenly scaldingly hot or infected with leprosy. She turns to me and goes, “I’m young. Ta-ta.” AND WAVES ME ON MY WAY!
Wow, I was blown away. Too old? At twenty-six? I’m already past my prime? I haven’t had a prime yet. Or rather if that was my prime I am in some serious, serious trouble. But it was pretty damn funny nonetheless. I’ve never had that happen before. Too old? To get into the tavern you have to be 21. Even if she was using a fake she’d have to be 19ish and I thought women always went for older men.
Meanwhile my brother, who at twenty-two is apparently in his prime, is in Hawaii having cougars leave him notes at the front desk of the spa asking if he wants to come to their room to watch election results and “see what happens”. As if I needed further illustration of the fact that Max is Vincent Chase to my Johnny Drama.
Sigh, now I’m old and depressed.