It was another wedding reception like so many nowadays, too loud, too busy and too young. But when you are divorced with grown children, sometimes the only events you get invited to are your friends' children's weddings, so you take what you can get.
My good friend Helen had invited me, with guest, to her daughter's reception at a lovely old mansion which was now rented out for special occasions. No expense was spared. The wedding party alone was sixteen people.
Unfortunately, my friend Jerry, who was supposed to attend with me, had to cancel suddenly due to a family illness, and it was too short of a notice to try to find a replacement for him, so I went myself.
Helen had a table made up of just her friends, mostly people she worked with, so I knew virtually no one. The other couples tried to include me in their conversations, but it was awkward on both sides, so I spent my time wandering around the grounds, enjoying the pleasant spring afternoon, sipping my Gin & Tonics and people-watching.
The young people crowded the dance floor as the music pulsed from the DJ's huge speakers, dancing to a mixture of rap, hip hop, and old school Rock and Roll as I stood by a window overlooking the garden.
"Feel like dancing?" a deep male voice startled me. I turned to face one of the ushers, a tall kid with dark, wavy hair who I had noticed earlier because of his bright blue eyes.
"Me?" I replied with a laugh. "This isn't exactly the music I grew up with." Being fifty-four years old, with a son probably older than this guy, I was clearly out of my element and the young man was just trying to be polite to the old lady.
He smiled through white teeth. "Age has nothing to do with it. You just get out there and let the beat take you."
"I'm sure," I told him, "the beat will take me right to my chiropractor. Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass."
He smiled again, paused as if to say something, then was off to the dance floor.
What a sweet young man, I thought, taking pity on the poor, lonely, old lady. And handsome! In my younger days, he's just what I considered "my type." I went back to sipping my drink, seeing him dancing around, energy pulsing from every inch of him.
I glanced at myself in one of the ceiling-to-floor mirrors and thought that it was too bad Jerry hadn't come. He was good for a few laughs and I had picked out this red dress with matching heels because I knew red was his favorite. My hair was freshly high-lighted, and cut, and the make-up was done just right to not look trampy, and Jerry would've made sure to give me a well-needed night of mad sex afterwards, but now I was just a made-up fifty-something, sucking on a G&T, getting my jollies from watching men thirty years my junior.
I turned slightly to check out my profile in the mirror, satisfied that while I would never be thin again, my curves were proportionate, with my hips equaling my 38C chest. I could still turn some heads, even though they'd have to be much older than this crowd.
I noticed a slight beat-change, and I think it may have even been a different song, when I noticed my new friend was back, carrying two drinks. "Hi, remember me?" he asked.
"Of course! Age doesn't mean anything, right?"
He blushed. "That's me. Anyway, I thought maybe you could use a fresh one." He held up a glass with a lime. "I asked the bartender what you were drinking. Hope you don't mind?"
How could I mind? A handsome young man delivering fresh alcohol? I was in Heaven. I took the glass. "Thank you very much. Is this part of your Boy Scout 'Be Kind to Old Ladies' merit badge?"
He let out a deep, hearty laugh. "More like, 'Why is this gorgeous creature alone tonight?' kind of badge."
I looked over both my shoulders, as if expecting to see an SI model behind me, and said, "Well, thanks for the drink and try not to bump into any of the furniture until you get your glasses replaced."
He held up his glass and we clinked. "I like you. You're funny and self-deprecating. My name is Jordan."
I was impressed with his vocabulary on top of everything else. "Hi Jordan, I'm Lynn, I'm a friend of the bride's mom."
"Well, as you can tell from the outfit, I'm one of the million members of the wedding party, which means I happen to be somebody who knows the groom, I guess. So basically, we're just extras in this extravaganza."
"That's funny because it's true. Aren't you here with someone?"
He shrugged. "My date fell through. To be honest, she dumped me two weeks ago. I'm better off without her, I know, but it was too short of a notice to find another girl."
"Well, it's her loss," I replied with a wink.
"Thanks, and what's your story?"
"My date had to go out of town at the last minute."
"His loss is my gain," Jordan answered smoothly. "Now I get to have an enjoyable conversation with a very attractive woman."
I chuckled as I put my hand on his chest. "Honey, you're very sweet, but look at all these young girls out here, just waiting to be plucked. It's very nice of you but don't waste your time over here. Thanks again for the drink."
I turned to move away but his hand held mine to his chest. When I looked back, he wasn't smiling any more.
"Don't sell yourself short, Lynn. I meant it when I said 'Age doesn't mean anything.' I understand if I'm not your type, but don't close yourself off to all the options. There may be someone else here for you. Good luck." With that, he was gone.
I thought about our conversation as I strolled around, thinking what a sweet kid he was. And, I know from some of the looks and comments I hear from younger guys, there are some who prefer a more mature partner, just as so many older men strive to meet younger girls. I was sorry that he seemed rejected, especially by me. I definitely had no intention to hurt his feelings. After all, he was the only person who at least noticed all the effort I put into looking my best tonight.
