A Play Date

Our dating blogger stops playing games at the gym.

By Liza Persky

For those of you who read my last blog post, I'm sure you're dying to know what's happening with Angel, the 26-year-old trainer who came on to me.  The fact is that I'm not really sure what to do.  He's still being adorable and the goodbye hugs border on cuddling.  I've found myself not only putting lip gloss and eye liner on before I go to the gym, but after I get off the treadmill I run to the bathroom to take my hair down to put it in a loose ponytail that says, "I'm sporty and effortlessly feminine." I wish I could just enjoy this attention, but I can't. I have my reasons: 26 of them.  In fact, I've NEVER felt older. 

The other day he was at my locker with me and I went to pull my Blackberry out of my Gym bag to punch in his number, and by mistake I pulled out a WALKMAN.  I'm not kidding. And inside, a cassette tape:  Carole King's Tapestry. I may as well have pulled out my mood ring and a Dream Catcher.  He, of course, thought it was hilarious.  After I got over the embarrassment of sharing with him the Smithsonian relic that is my gym bag, he gave me his number and asked me what I was doing for lunch.  I couldn't tell him the first thing that came to mind, which was Botox, so I stuttered and stammered and said, "nothing."  I was completely trapped when he said, "Then we're going to lunch. Get your stuff."  Do you realize what that meant?  I had just worked out.  I looked like a cross between "Roseanne Roseannadanna" and "Blossom" after a rainstorm.  But, I had no choice, and weirdly, in some strange self-confident burst of energy, I wasn't freaking out. There is just something about this guy that pushes past all the normal game playing.

So, we went to a diner up the street.  I was immediately going over topics in my head of things we could talk about.  But ironically everything I wanted to cover took place before 1980.  We ended up talking about where he grew up, what life was like as a Marine, and he told me he wanted to take me on a real date.  The one thing we weren't talking about was the big 41-year-old elephant in the room.  I finally just said, "I think I'm older than you think I am."  He smiled and said, "I don't think so," so I told him to guess.  He paused for a moment and said, "40?"  I've ever been more insulted in my life. I wasn't expecting him to say 25, but ONE year below my real age.  Really??  I figured I had nothing to lose so I just asked him, "Why do you want to hang out with a woman who's fifteen years older than you?"  He said, "Girls my age don't know what they want or who they are.  They just want attention.  It's boring." 

It then dawned on me what this whole older woman/younger man thing is about. The men my age are cynical and guarded. They've been burned.  They tend to think all women are gold diggers or just after something.  With them it's, "What do you want, how much do you want and are you going to trap me into something I don't want." These younger guys have nothing to lose and have no reason to play games.  With them it's, "You're cool. I like you.  I want to hang out."  Plain and simple.  I've decided to stop judging myself for flirting with a 26-year-old, and I may even say yes to going on a date. A play date.  And if it doesn't work out, I'll do what every confident, self-aware, successful and sophisticated woman would do: I'll change gyms.