The X Factor
On a cold winter’s night, over a year and a half ago, I met a 22-year old man named X who was sexy as hell and had a fire all his own. I figured it was just a casual romp that wouldn’t amount to anything. As luck would have it, X was equal parts affectionate and sexual and his need for my undivided attention proved fatal to our budding friendship at the time. Not to mention that at 22, I was easily a teenager when he was born and I somehow felt a bit advantaged – meaning, my life experience would have me working circles around this kid. And so it was that X began blowin’ my cell phone to smithereens and leaving more messages than a commission-based cold caller. I grew weary of his immediate latch-and-destroy demeanor and simply refused to take any of his calls. Six months later, I ran into X at a bar and he made the fatal mistake of trying to make me jealous by flirting with a close friend of mine. His feeble attempt left him humiliated and feeling like the new kid on the playground. Less than three months later, I ran into X again – this time I was alone- and he was slightly intoxicated. Like the saying goes, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and X had plenty to say. He mentioned that he was sorry that he stepped out of line when he saw me last and that he really liked me and couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel the same about him. I said, “I like you, but I don’t like to be toyed with and you proved my fear of dealing with you because of your immaturity to be a very real issue.” He repeatedly apologized and I left it at, “You’re a nice guy and you really need to find someone your age to grow with.” Six months later he called (December 2005) and, as some of you will recall, I was dating T. I picked up the phone, realized it was X and stammered to find the words – especially when T was a raving jealous loon who didn’t appreciate my taking a 3 a.m. call when we were having “quality” time together. I abruptly said, “Look, this isn’t a good time and I’m presently dating someone, so I can’t talk.” I hung up the phone, argued with T for an hour and didn’t hear from X again…..well, until Sunday night. I was enjoying the 2-for-1 drinks at Chi-Chiz in the West Village when someone bear-hugged me from behind and as my feet left the floor and my head went back I saw the unmistakable pearly whites of X. I turned around and he hugged me tight again and said, “It’s been a while.” As I gave him the escalator look I noticed that this was a revised X. He was trim, fit and still had that bangin’ booty holding his jeans just so. “I would ask what you’ve been up to, but boy, the body is speakin’ for itself. What did you do?!” X looked pleased to be getting my full attention and honest inquisition. “I lost more than 50 pounds!” For the record, X was a healthy boy when we met, but he wasn’t obese. To lose fifty pounds and still look like he was ready to pull doors off hinges, made me smile. “You look great kid.” He said, “Yeah, but do I look great enough for you to take me home?” I felt the blood rush to my face and was saved by X’s friends who joined in to ask who I was. I was promptly introduced as the man who “stole my heart and refuses to give it back.” I shook everyone’s hand, excused myself and proceeded to get a beer at the bar and catch my breath. X joined me at the bar and said, “You know I mean that shit right?” I smiled and said, “Stop being silly boy. I have to run and meet friends at the club up the street.” He grabbed my shoulders and held me in place. “I’m going to call you this week and you’re going to take my call this time. I just want to hang and be friends. I don’t want another year to go by before I see you again.” Humor to the rescue, I said, “Yeah, just let me recharge the battery on my cell.” I laughed… he didn’t …he’s left two messages since then.
Some say age is only a number, but with age - MOST times - comes experience and wisdom. There’s also a sense of having a skewed sense of reference and relevance when the gap becomes too wide. When (if ever) should adults consider age a factor when dating?
Keep passin’ the open windows…