...Comes back from his weeklong family trip.
Before he left, he was gushing about a girl he was dating for the past three weeks. 'She's the one,' he kept telling me, in a dozen different alliterations. 'Oh, she's a businesswoman, she's starting her own restaurant, etc etc talking her up to me. He even shows me a photo. Busty Brazilian Brunette, she was definitely a looker.
'I've waited 15 years to meet her, and I just know she's the one.' he says with animated enthusiasm.
After three weeks, you know how much is wrong with that statement.
He is 67 years old. She was 23.
Of course I can't do anything but warn him, 'I'm happy for you but...'
Aww christ, you know, I couldn't even tell him. What could I possibly say.
Well, he comes back deflated, tells me it's over, his family talked him out of it.
The week before, he neglected to divulge one crucial detail:
She was a stripper.
Now not to be judgmental, being a stripper is not a dealbreaker, but it was combined with the rest of the story he had told me about her ruined the math.
He was bummed but lucky. He got out before he got burned too bad.
I wasn't so lucky in my day.
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