A 28-Year-Old Bought Me a Drink

I went to dinner with a friend, and afterward we went to a bar. A 28-year-old offered to buy me a drink.

And he was attractive.

I hadn’t felt attraction in so long that I had started to wonder whether I still could. Then there it was, in the middle of an otherwise ordinary night out.

His friend joined us, everyone’s age came up, and I did some math. He could have been my son.

Suddenly, I had questions. Do I tell him I’m 49? Do I mention the four daughters? Is there some kind of disclosure schedule I should know about?

I settled on: “We’re definitely older than you, and we’re single moms.”

Smooth.

The whole thing was fun and completely disorienting. I’ve spent most of my adult life understanding dating as a path toward a serious relationship. I know how to think about compatibility. I know how to consider what something might become. I can think five steps ahead before anything has actually happened.