I like butterscotch. Do you like butterscotch? Yes I do, but that is not going to get you my phone number.
Unless you look like George Clooney-- you are not going to be a 50-year-old dating a 30-year-old--correction, unless you
are George Clooney.
I went to mid-singles fireside last night, amazing fireside, weird company. True, there were a couple of hundred people at the fireside, but the women were 30 and the men were 50. I’m not kidding; 50 and on the prowl. It’s a sad world. I was helping myself to a serving of ice-cream with butterscotch, and yes, a man tried to use this as a reason to talk to me—the fact that we both like butterscotch on ice-cream. Guess what? Who doesn’t, and it was one of the
two toppings available.
Am I being rude? Yes, but please save me from the fate of being in the future a 50-year-old single woman who as to compete for men her age against 30-year-old single women.
I’m
not looking for a sugar-daddy – well, at least not yet. Unless he looks like George Clooney, just kidding, not even then.