Sex and the 60 - SLUDGE

When it comes to being the adored or the adorer, of course I would prefer the latter. But you know, I don’t really like myself all that much as the adored. Somehow I get drunk with power and it brings out the tormenter in me. Perhaps it is because I didn’t have enough practice as the adored when I was “forming” and thus just don’t know how to be beneficent. Or, maybe the adorers are just asking for it!

And another thing, it is really hard to admit but I’m not like Demi Moore or the female equivalent of Harrison Ford. It is rare that a younger man contacts me. I’m told I made a very bad mistake by listing my real age. I should have listed 53 and once he fell hopeless in love, revealed my secret. Hey, it’s a woman’s prerogative not to talk about age – right. Kinda uncouth to even make us state an age at all – don’t you think? But dishonesty is a deal breaker for me so how can I be a hypocrite? Well, at least for now I’m 60. All bets are off in May when I turn 61 (Never!).

There are a few younger men who do venture into the older woman category and I must admit – some of them are adorers and thus ripe for the tormenter. One recently contacted me. Here are his vitals: 54, 5’9”, Slender and Athletic, Divorced with an 18 year old who lives away from home. He is an Engineer - a great looking guy pictured in what looked like the wilderness with shots of him by a fire pit, with animal skins and a hastily built lean to. Me, who thinks camping out is staying at a Holiday Inn chose not to focus on that – he was 54 and a rare encounter. I had to give it a try.

So several days later I painted on my skinny jeans, a casual tee, spiky heeled boots, and my hand knit sweater and drove to the strip mall Indian restaurant he had found. I could tell from the moment he set eyes on me he was smitten. He couldn’t stop smiling and began falling all over himself. I could feel the tormenter getting her game face on. I wanted to stop her, but it was so much fun to be her.

He had been carrying a large paper bag and out of it he pulled a gallon bottle of Gallo wine! A gallon! Gallo! The tormenter now stepped forward, pleased to have met him. “Are you going to try and get me drunk and have your way with me?” She asked sweetly while staring directly into his eyes. He blushed, broke stare and stammered…”No, no, I thought I’d bring the rest of it….” But the tormenter was already laughing.

I fought back into control and folded the tormenter into her box. I wanted to make him more comfortable so I asked him to order for us. I was sure I would like whatever he chose. I like everything. Well nearly everything and the one thing that I don’t particularly care for – besides Gallo wine, is goat. Guess what he ordered… Yep - serves the tormenter right. But now he made her mad. He shouldn’t have done that.

As the food began to arrive I asked what kind of engineering he did. “You don’t drive a train do you and wear those blue stripped overalls?” I joked. He stammered an answer, not getting it, “Ooh, no – not that kind of an engineer…I’m a solid waste engineer. I design sewage treatment plants”. At that exact moment the goat arrived in its grayish, brown, viscous sauce. Suddenly Gallo was my favorite drink. And I quickly downed my glass (why do they use such small wine glasses in strip mall Indian restaurants?)

I had given him a topic that he could really embrace and he launched into a detailed explanation on how sewage treatment plants work as I spooned some lumpy goat onto the bed of rice. I don’t know if you’ve ever had goat but it tends to be knurly, bony and difficult to eat (at least all the times I’ve had it) and the pieces are always more than a mouthful. It was not for the dainty, but I popped a piece into my mouth. That’s when he chose to ask me the question -- “Do you know what sludge is?” I nearly choked on the goat. Unfortunately, I was struck dumb by the goat knee or hip joint or whatever it was that was plugging up my mouth. All I could muster was a shake of my head, knowing that I would soon find out the answer to a question that should never, ever be asked especially in a strip mall Indian restaurant while your date has a mouthful of goat.

“Well – oh you’re going to love this!!” he gushed, (oh yeah I’m sure!) “Once the solid waste is consumed by the bacteria, many of the bacteria die.” I spit out the goat ball, but he barely noticed. “And the bodies – yes the very bodies of the dead bacteria become SLUDGE!” he announced triumphantly. I looked up at him. He was literally glistening with excitement. This guy was getting it up for Sludge! I tapped my glass for a refill, and then another and then gleefully let the tormentor loose.

She asked him about his pictures and he said he was “a survivalist” - went on 10 day excursions into the woods with only 3 matches and a compass. She asked “Did you survive?” He looked confused. He said he could start a fire with just 2 sticks and some dryer lint. She asked “where did you find a dryer in the woods?” He tried to explain that he brought the lint with him, but gave up mid course.

Then he gave the tormenter an opening she could really sink her teeth into. “You don’t look like your picture”, he smiled confident that he could gain his footing. “Oh, really and is that good?” the tormenter spat. “Yes, oh, yes,” he quickly added, “you are much more attractive…” “Oh, so are you saying my picture is unattractive” (What a bitch!)”. “No, no, it is really a nice picture; it’s just that you look much better in person.” he stuttered. “So, why did you contact me if I was a dog in my picture?” She was like a spider, enjoying wrapping him up in his own words. “Oh, no, no, you misunderstand…”, but it was fruitless, the tormenter was going to make him twist in the wind and she did while the leftovers were packed up (he would take them with the ½ empty bottle of Gallo) and coffee was served.

He was wise enough not to ask for another date as he walked me to my car. But he did write several times, letting me know about a wool festival in Pennsylvania (great lint I guess), a beginner course in fire making (boy he was intuitive) and finally a seminar on Facultative and Super Bacteria. That’s when I blocked him. He had finally Gotten My Goat!

See you next time…