Sex and the 60 - The Land of Enchantment

“Look over there, over your right shoulder. Oh my he’s….”

“No to your right, the one in the booth, look….”

“Wait, wait, turn around, see the one in the cowboy hat and…”

“Oh my God Miranda, pinch me, pinch me. Are we dead? This place is heaven.”

Miranda and I had taken a quick trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. I needed to breath the clean, clear air, have a couple of days of letting my eyes stare off into the distance and settle on the purples, blues, oranges and reds of the desert. I needed to eat everything hot and spicy, moon over the Indian rugs I couldn’t afford and hear some down home country music – not to mention the excuse for drinking too many Coronas! And so now Miranda and I were sitting in a bar restaurant down by the railroad tracks dizzy from swiveling our heads to the left, to the right, to the left.

I truly don’t know why I never noticed it before. We had just been to Santa Fe a couple of years ago and I don’t remember seeing these wondrous sights. Perhaps I was still blind with grief because Miranda assures me that this is nothing new. Apparently this is the place, the vortex, the magnetic center. This place is the reason that all other parts of the United States are bereft of good looking older men. Yes, this is truly the Land of Enchantment. But more importantly, it is -- the Land of Gorgeous Older Men.

The room was full of men. There were a few young men but the majority were in their 50’s and early 60’s. Just at the age when a man can still be ‘all things to a woman’ while having learned enough not to screw around and ruin everything. These men had seen hard times, had had their hearts broken, had raised daughters, had experienced unrequited love, and had learned about a woman’s heart. These men looked like --- gay men……

“Oh no….Miranda! Stop, stop. They’re gay! It’s not possible for a man to look this good, keep himself this fit, have all his hair, dress this well and have such great teeth unless they’re GAY.” I collapsed on the table in grief. I knew it was too good to be true.

“No, Samantha, these are men’s men. You know, like the Marlboro Man without the cigarettes. You are so cynical. Look, that one is with a woman”. Indeed, the one with the close cropped more-salt-than-pepper hair in the shorts and sandals, with the great legs was with a beautiful, blond, blue-eyed, reed-thin 40ish year old. Hmmm and he was cuddling up to her in the booth - his hand lightly on her thigh under the table.

“Oh, thank god, I thought I’d lose my mind if they were all gay. I just have never experienced a nirvana like this.”

I redirected my attention to Miranda whose eyes were trained on the courtyard entrance to the restaurant. Her mouth was slightly agape and I could see she was mesmerized. I followed her gaze and there stood a gorgeous American Indian. He was about 6’2” with a rock hard body, rust red skin, chiseled cheekbones, black eyes, dusty cowboy boots, worn (in all the right places) jeans and a checkered shirt. His fine black hair was threaded with white strands and it was pulled back in a loose single braid tucked under a 10 gallon hat. Hello Tonto!

“Miranda, Miranda,” to distract her I literally had to reach over and grab her arm. She jumped and squawked “What”, but her eyes never left him.

“Miranda, look away, you’re making a spectacle of yourself,” but it was too late. I saw a smile spread across her face and I looked up at him. He was looking in our direction and there was a new twinkle in his eye. He walked directly over to our table, tipped his hat at Miranda and slipped past to the bar. Miranda looked like she had been touched by God.

I looked over at the bar and his back was to our table so I snapped my fingers in front of Miranda. “Snap out of it, will you! You’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh Lordy Samantha, I think I saw a living God”.

OK, ok, now calm down, now get a grip.” I picked up the menu and began to page through it. “Take a look at the menu. Don’t you think we have a great table? When the music starts we’ll have front row seats to see the band. Miranda? Are you listening to me?” But Miranda was on her feet and as she breezed past me she said…”You had Paris”. This I couldn’t deny.

The adorable 20 something waitress with the tattoos, hip hugger jeans and midriff blouse stopped by the booth to see if “my friend was coming back”. I ordered another Corona and turned to look at the bar. There I saw Miranda laughing with abandon and slugging back a shot of Tequila with a beer chaser. The crowd of men around her turned to look in my direction as she pointed to me. Then they all began to move toward the booth – the Indian, a short younger guy who was a bit bow-legged and two glorious gods in their 50’s all wearing the ubiquitous uniform of boots, jeans and checkered shirts, topped with cowboy hats. Ok, in for a dime, in for a dollar. I was buckling my seatbelt and taking the ride.

Their names were Rory, Chip, Jesse and Miranda’s dreamboat, Ty. They all squeezed into the booth with Miranda nearly sitting on Ty’s lap.

“Samantha, these fine boys are from Texas and they’re here with -- the Rodeo!” Her eyes were glistening. THE RODEO! Was I dreaming? Come on, I couldn’t have written a story this good (could I?).

The barbecue ribs, fried chicken and beers kept coming. We heard stories of trussed calves, bucking broncos, broken bones, dislocated hips and chipped teeth. Miranda swooned and leaned back against her Indian. Then the band began to play and I found out Rory could do a mean Texas 2-step. I danced with Rory, Chip and Jesse. And Miranda – well, Miranda made out with her Indian – on the dance floor, in the booth, under a tree in the courtyard.

“I hate to break this up boys,” Rory announced, “but we ride tomorrow and it’s time for us to go. Chip, go tell Ty.”

“Can Ty and I walk you little ladies to your hotel?” Rory asked, as he took my hand. “That would be great, if we can peel Miranda and Ty off of each other.” And he laughed.

It was a short walk to our bed and breakfast; Rory took my hand again half way there and asked if I ever found myself in Texas.

“I might have to find myself in Texas.” I sensed this was a really nice guy, probably married, very respectful and oh, oh, oh, so sexy my head hurt!

I used my key to open the door and Rory leaned up against my back. I turned and we had a long, soulful kiss. A kiss that said, “oh, another life, another time.”

“Good night,” I whispered into his ear. “Thanks for making my trip to New Mexico so very special.”

“The pleasure was all mine. You take care now honey.” And he turned and was gone.

When I woke in the morning I saw Miranda asleep on her bed wearing nothing but a checkered shirt.

Oh, well…I had Paris.

See you next time.