I hate to play into stereotypes, but let's face it: we have all seen it before. The adage probably exists for a reason, men become more distinguished looking and women just look old. At 28, it was not something I really worried about. Yet. Still, I don't know that it is entirely true. As often as I see a couple I would term a mismatch in terms of physical attractiveness, it is not uncommon to see the tubby old man with the fighting-it-every-step of the way wife. Although, as I sat in the waiting area for my flight, it was apparent. This man had aged much better than his wife. They both appeared to be around 60. His thick silver hair looked so distinguished against his tanned skin. Yes, there was a bit of a bald spot forming, but frankly, it only added to his appeal. He was tall—six two or so—and thin. He was well-dressed in his dark denim jeans (although, he could have worn a size smaller), a plaid shirt that was clearly from a high-end traditional designer, and a navy cardigan that was easily identifiable as expensive and probably cashmere.
His wife, however, had clearly let herself go. While women often need to gain 10 pounds as they age in that never-ending quest to save either their ass or their face, she had gained 40 pounds and still not saved the face. Her hair was clearly well-tended at a salon, but the keratin and bleach seemed to just miss the mark. And, seriously, she was long past the point that she should consider leggings in public...much less as pants with a large poncho over them. She was dripping with diamonds, and you could tell she thought she was something special. She was constantly on the phone bragging to at least 10 different people how wonderful their trip had been, but then complained in front of her husband that he actually had the nerve to want to go to the museums in Paris rather than shopping with her. I was not one to judge, but I could not stand her.
It was a sight that was certainly not uncommon to me. I was in an airport at least a couple of times a week as I traveled for my job as an executive recruiter. Often it was a daytrip to meet with a client or a recruit, but this one was the entire week. I had a client seeking a Chief Operating Officer and I had local candidates lined up every morning. However, I was not complaining. A work week in Fort Lauderdale was not the end of the world—especially since it was going to be 20 degrees at home in New York.
The boarding process began. Clearly, I knew how it worked and had the elite status to board first and sit in an upgraded seat. My guess was they had purchased the same privilege because she clearly did not understand how it worked and the gate agent had to turn her away three times because they were not yet boarding. Her husband merely shook his head and told her to sit. I found my window seat in the fourth row of first class and readied myself for the three hour flight. She made her way on to seat 1B. She had loudly announced that she always had the first row aisle. He helped her with her bags and to my surprise joined me in the aisle of the fourth row.
I smiled as he sat down and let out a sigh. "Long day?" I inquired.
"It seems any day with my wife is a long day," he laughed.
"I guess it happens. How long have you been together?"
"Forty long years." We both laughed.
We settled in. I crossed my legs and thought, why are the good ones always older AND married? He seemed like the perfect guy. I was in my usual flying attire: dark jeans and a fitted black turtleneck sweater. I learned long ago that this was the perfect thing to travel in. It was comfortable, casual, and could easily be presentable if I bumped into someone who turned into a potential client.
The flight attendant came to take our drink orders—chardonnay for me, scotch for him. By the way, "I am Martin." I shook his hand. "I am Amanda. It's nice to meet you."
I could not help myself as the flight progressed. I found myself flirting with him. It was all innocent enough. Just an occasional hair toss or giggle. I mean, he actually was a charming man. Then, the unthinkable happened. He asked what I did for a living. I explained that I was an executive recruiter who spent my time matching up the right executive with the right position. He explained that he was CEO of a large healthcare company and needed to find a new CFO within the next 3 months as his current one wanted to retire. By the time we got to this bit of information, the flight was almost over.
"Here's the deal. I would love to help you. I have meetings with candidates for another position set up in the morning. Is there any way you could do a lunch meeting with me to see if I can address your needs?"
He smiled. "Actually, I can. I am not going back to the office until Tuesday. I had tomorrow set aside to run some errands and maybe play a round of golf in the afternoon. I I am sure it will not be a problem working in lunch with a lovely new friend."
"My meetings are at the W Hotel where I am staying over on the beach. There is a decent restaurant in the hotel. Is that okay with you?"
"Of course, I know it well. What time works for you?"
"12:30?"
"Perfect. I will see you then." About that time, the plane landed. We shook hands and agreed to see each other the next day. I must admit, I was excited both at the prospect of another placement and at the prospect of seeing Martin again. I knew it was wrong. I should not be excited about seeing a married man. I could not help myself.
**
My interviews ended at 11:30 the next day. When I finished, I went upstairs and freshened up a bit. I was wearing a simple sleeveless black dress with a short jacket over it. It was fitted, but not tight. I had long ago learned that a slutty appearance would not help me in the long-term. However, the dress had a row of covered buttons up the torso. I could not help myself. I unbuttoned one extra button.
I made my way downstairs at 12:25. I had been there about two minutes when Martin appeared. He was clearly headed for the links in a black golf shirt and khaki pants. Still, he looked as handsome as I remembered.
"Amanda. Lovely to see you." He leaned in kissed me on the cheek. My chest fluttered a little bit. I must admit I was not in the habit of having clients kiss me. But, I assumed he wanted to set the tone that we were friends as well as associates after the flight the night before. "I am sorry if I am underdressed. I did not think about that you would be working today as I am still on vacation. I should have at least worn a long-sleeved shirt."
"Don't be silly. You look great. Here. I will take off my jacket. Then, I am just in a dress." Little did he know, it was just a dress. I did not want panty lines and my breasts were still firm enough that I could still go bra-less if necessary. One of the joys of being a 32 B. I always felt I had just enough in that department.
