Gotta Love Him

I was talking to a daughter and mentioned a mother of teens who had evidently streaked her hair with Kool-Aid (food dye? Crayola markers?) in a shade of red not found in real hair.

“Was she single?” my daughter wanted to know.

Hmm. What would be the purpose? To attract a man who wanted a younger woman? If he wanted a younger woman and you fooled him into thinking you were younger, what would happen when you got even older? Seems self-defeating. I, for one, wouldn’t want a man who didn’t want the real me. I seem to get realer by the minute.

My daughter thanked me for not being one of those women who tries too hard to look younger. And yes, she meant it in the nicest way possible, so shut up. She mentioned middle-aged women lusting after significantly-younger males, women old enough to be the boys’ mothers wearing T-shirts proclaiming Team Jacob or Team Whatsisname from the Twilight movies. Nope, never occurred to me. I watched about five minutes of the first movie and then found a book to read.

Some years ago a couple I knew was lying on a beach. The turd of a husband motioned to a sweet young babe and said, “Why don’t you look like that?” The wife said, “Because I could be her mother. And you could be her father.” Unbelievably, he’s still married—and alive.

I remember the day my husband and a group of men were outside in a tourist town, waiting on the wives to finish shopping. A woman young enough to be their daughter walked by and when she was out of earshot several of the men commented on her looks. My husband’s comment? “Wow. Her mother must be beautiful.”

You gotta love a man like that.