Sex and the 60 - The Perfect Stranger

He leaned in close, his lips millimeters from my ear, his breath hot against me disturbing my hair. His hand rested lightly on my back very near where my bra strap sat under my tight spandex t-shirt. His fingers twitched. “I have to tell you that you are GORGEOUS” he whispered. I turned toward him, the perfect stranger – medium height, beautiful yet masculine, short brown curly hair, a great body, rock hard under the loose stone-washed t-shirt and body skimming jeans. He was young. Well, younger than I might be comfortable with. But vodka could be the great relaxer – now couldn’t it? And after all, I was GORGEOUS, in New Orleans, a bit tipsy and well….

My fantasy life took over for a brief moment and I reacted as I would have on film. I turned my head allowing his lips to brush against my ear and faced him. Letting my perfectly made-up hazel eyes meet his excited cool blue ones I tilted my head toward the right, moving closer to his sexy lips. I could feel my heart beating slightly faster, moving in closer, indicating that we were about to have one of those long, wet, seductive kisses that move you in all those ways you wanted to be moved. Closer and closer his lips came as I moved myself toward the edge of the bar stool preparing to stand and press my body against him.

WHOA! I caught myself. This was not a dream. NO, this was really happening? After the year I had with men…how could this really be happening? A young, attractive, total stranger so captivated by me that he was compelled to tell me and couldn’t keep his hands off of me in a bar filled with young women. What was going on?

This had been happening now for a few weeks. As I think back, I realize men have been looking at me differently, noticing me in places and at times when I knew I had been invisible before. There was the guy at the supermarket who seemed to be following me aisle to aisle trying to make eye contact. Then there were the men at the auction, several of them smiling at me as I brushed past to find a seat, their gaze following me. Every time I glanced up – there was one of them looking over at me and smiling and now, the most overt example - sitting at a bar on our first night in New Orleans. Miranda and I sated with oysters and smoked sausage and ready to fill our heads with the blues. And unlike the many times we sat at bars when no one seemed to notice me, this time, the barflies were all around us.

Franco, the filmmaker, had started the parade. A Kevin lookalike – in “the business”, chatting us up while ordering bottle after bottle of local beer and getting quite drunk. Then the guy who was the champion whistler whose name I cannot remember, then a few others made approaches and finally there was Travis…the perfect stranger. The fantasy maker.

So, it was happening again, just like it had in the old days. Men, so attracted to me that they had lurid and lascivious thoughts that they were compelled to tell me about…. But now, as an older woman I guess I commanded a bit more respect and the “dirty thoughts” were translated into words like GORGEOUS. The words were different but I could tell the sentiment was the same. Yes, apparently I was the pile of steaming manure and flies were EVERYWHERE.

Isn’t it strange? What had happened that changed me from invisible to irresistible? What could have changed? I had continued to be strict about my diet (well, most of the time), exercised, made sure my hair was well “serviced”, put on makeup everyday or at the very least, my sunglasses, dressed to highlight my highlights. But these were things I had done for a couple of years now as I reentered the dating game. On the surface there is nothing new…well, perhaps there is something significantly new that I haven’t mentioned to you…yes, and I have a theory.

OK, I’ll tell you. I am seeing someone I think is special. Now, I’m not prepared to provide details (too new, too private, hell, none of your business!) But perhaps, just perhaps, I am carrying myself differently, more confidently. Maybe there is something in my eyes or a slight smile on my face or something, something that is subtle but different that has shifted gravity towards me. It’s possible that the connection has set off a powerful spray of pheromones, making me a man-magnet. Whatever it is, it is quite obvious, and shamelessly I will say – quite welcome for its self-perpetuating consequences – more confidence, more attraction, more confidence.... It is so nice to be seen as a woman again. I don’t know how I lived without it but grief makes you lose your “taste” for just about everything. I am definitely full-flavored again and loving it!

So back to Travis…the perfect stranger. Hmmm, what should I do? It turned out that he was one of the bartenders, not working that night. He was persistent, first showing me the liquor closet in the back of the bar, trying to close the door behind us before I slipped out and telling me about his apartment right behind the bar, up the creaky wooden steps. Taking pictures of us together with my camera so I’d never forget. Laid out before me was the fantasy we all dream about. Boy, it was tempting…A lost night in New Orleans with a sexy, younger, unknown stranger. What would you do? What did I do? Guess! -- but I’ll never tell.

See you next time.