Last night I went out with a bunch of my girlfriends for dinner at a popular family & friends restaurant. About forty minutes after we were seated, a group of older men walked in and sat in the booth right behind our table. We didn’t think anything of it and continued laughing and joking as usual.
I was laughing too hard at a joke when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and thisclose to my face was some smiley, grinning fool from the table of men behind us. I thought my coat or purse had hit him when I moved my chair, so I shrugged off his tap and went back to laughing at my friends. Tap tap tap on my shoulder again. I turned around and it was this same fool grinning a 100-watt super smile.
I said, “I’m sorry, did I hit you?”
“Nah lil mama, but I wanna hit you. You know, I wanna see what you’re about, I been watching you over there and you got something special on you”
I really didn’t know what to say to this man, especially since him and his friends all looked old enough to be our fathers and maybe even grandfathers. So I turned back to my table and gave the universal ‘this mofo really just tried to holla at me’ look to my girls. We started with the old man sugar daddy jokes, LOUD, so hopefully they would get the point that none of us were interested in hooking up with the geriatric old spice crowd.
I got up to go to the restroom and next thing I know he’s right behind me. I didn’t have my girls there for moral support so I knew I was going to have to handle this carefully. What if he tried to wedge me up in a bathroom stall?
“Why you runnin? I just wanna talk to you tenderoni girl” He smiled and *gleam* I saw the one gold tooth and I knew it was all downhill from there. But wait, did he just call me Tenderoni? Like New Edition Bobby Brown Tenderoni? What the hell? Cell phone check, it’s definitely 2006, not 1986. “I’m sorry sir, I’m not interested. You seem like a nice man, but I think I might be a little young for you”
He actually started singing, “P.Y.T. Pretty Young Thing, you need some lovin’ T.L.C. Tender Loving Care…Bet you don’t know that song, but it was written for you” So trying to be a smart aleck, I said back, “Michael Jackson wrote that song in 1982 and put it on his Thriller album. I was in diapers and drinking Similac at that time, so that song is definitely not for me”
Mistake!!! He apparently likes a fiesty gold-digging woman, so he pulled out a wad of cash and tried to cover his playa-flirt tactic up by acting like he was pulling out his cell phone. “Sorry, you know my wallet was too full to hold it all. Lemme get your number babygirl”
“Umm, look. I’m young enough to be your baby girl–you know, your DAUGHTER. Matter of fact, your daughter is probably older than me. So I have to politely decline. Oh, and maybe if you didn’t hang out at strip clubs you wouldn’t have so many extra $1 bills in your pocket”
He shot me a look of bewilderment and defeat so pitiful that I almost relented, but then I saw the wedding band on his left ring finger. “Sir, wouldn’t your wife be mad if she knew you were out here trying to get my phone number?” Then I turned away and continued down the hall to the restroom. Before I went in the door, I heard his Nextel chirp and he said, “Cold Busted dawg, she saw the ring. I didn’t get the number…”
Perhaps this man was the inspiration for the movie Grumpy Old Men?