A NEXT GENERATION REPORT

By Cindy Landistrom

I’m 40, but still pull off 36.  I’m single, but not crazy, and I’ve had a pretty good dating life. In my 30’s, I was more of a Carrie than a Samantha, and I plan to be more of a Blanche in my twilight than a Rose. I’m a real woman with a successful career as a VP in Finance.  I am always looking for true love but never sought the knight in shining armor. I was raised to believe that as long as I found a guy who treated me right and didn’t have the potential to land in jail, that was good enough.

In the past I have dated within my “range”, let’s say, but there was also a ‘but’ to the guy. Nice, but “lousy kisser.” Fun, but “smells like cabbage.” Intelligent, but “watches sports.” Perfect but “does meth.” And then there was Nathan. He was my soul-mate “but I was too stupid to know.” By the time I figured it out, it was too late- he was stolen by a 40 year old ballroom instructor who we used to take swing dance lessons from. During the quiet moments before sleep, I sometimes envision the two of them very happy with one another; him wheeling her around and washing her teeth in an antique jelly jar (kidding… Sort of…) Now that I’m getting older, the pool seems much shallower, and because of my job, I really only date when I have the time. Lately I day-dream about finding love within this younger generation, like the ball-room dancing instructor before me.  

Sidebar:

THE YUMMY PREY: Carter, 28, triathlete, founder of a website that sells those stickers that you place over your ex’s face on old photos.

SCENT: Smells like cake batter.

WHERE DID WE MEET: he lives in my building; we’ve flirted at the mailboxes a few times.

WHERE DID HE TAKE ME: Out to dinner at the restaurant where Lindsay Lohan got arrested.  

I had to join Carter at the restaurant.  Unfortunately my meeting ran late which means that I had to perk up my hair and make up at the children’s play area restroom at Barnes & Noble on the way,  but I looked good.

Things started slowly. I must admit I felt like I was having dinner with my teenage niece, because she too is always on her phone. The entire time he was able to ramble off a conversation with me while keeping most of his attention on typing on his smart-phone. I was proud of myself, I didn’t lose my wits. That’s what the 38 year old self would have done. I took a moment, looked around, and noticed that every young(er) couple was multitasking on their phones while having conversations with their date. I guess that’s what they do nowadays. So…

I picked up my smart phone and automatically went to Facebook. Yes, I’m a Facebook junkie- (don’t judge). I immediately see that I have a new friend request. It’s CARTER! I accept and read his status: “Sitting across the table from the sexiest woman ever!” I click “like”. And decide to play along- I change my status to “At dinner with a Hot Delicious Dish of a Man.” Unfortunately because of the dimly lit room and the smallness of my phone’s keyboard, my status auto-corrected to “Parallel Parking Stops Aids.”  

I quickly facebook-emailed him, (is that what they call Twerking?), and what happened next was amazing! As our lips continue to ramble off pleasantries: dreams, goals, whatever; our fingers were exchanging hot intimate fantasies about each other. At least I hope we did, again it was dimly lit. I’ve never been more turned on by the lack of eye contact or real human connection in my life because what was real was happening on the Facebook. That night ended in a wonderfully magical fashion.

At work, I surfed the Facebook the entire next day for his status update. It was posed at 2:39pm, “Today feels like the beginning of a new journey!” I had goose bumps. I left work early and arrived at my apartment to see Carter outside packing boxes in a U-haul. He was going to Grad School. We apparently had discussed that plan at great length during dinner last night, but I hadn’t picked up on it because the facebook-twerking-email-thingy. I thought, “Grad school, of course, because you’re 28! And that’s what you do.” Yeah, grad school - been there- done that. And just like that- I finally realized what happened to the 40 year old ballroom instructor who took my Nathan away fifteen years ago. Nothing. It most likely fizzled out as soon as it began. Speaking of which I wonder what Nathan is up to on Facebook?  Friend Request Sent.