(sorry having trouble with the spacing)
Got this email from “Peter”:
Hi, You can call me Peter, I’m a 20 year old student in Back Bay. In highschool I had a bad habit for blonde girls, and accidentally went on a business-turned friendly date with a fifty-five year old vocalist a few years back. Does this sound like the kind of thing you’d like me to elaborate on? Let me know.
Of course I asked him to elaborate. Here is Peter’s story:
The summer I turned 18, I decided to go see a small bar show with vocalist (feel free to censor out her name). She graduated the school I would be attending in the fall the year I was born, and I’ve been in programs, jams and the such with many of the musicians she’s played with, so I decided we’d have a conversation starter after the show. My dad, when he heard that I was going, gave me money to by buy her two dozen roses. I decided, why not, and took my crazy father’s money and did just that.
I go to the show, but it’s at a BAR, so of course they won’t let me in as much as I beg. I’m sitting there for nearly an hour, watching the show from the huge glass windows, roses in hand, waiting for her to come out. She finally does- after some laughing on both sides I introduce myself, tell her who I am and what I do, and she invites me to get a drink at a bar nearby. Although I’d never thought I’d be out with a forty-something-year-old late at night, I gave it a shot. I’ll try anything once, not really but yes.We talk for a few hours, get very friendly, swap phone numbers and the such (she even added me on Facebook later). It turns out a lot of her old professors are still here at the school, her favorite instrument is bass clarinet, and she can get me in touch with a ton of useful people.
After it gets late, I walk her to her husband’s car, who’s thirty-eight (as you see she likes the younger boys), hug and the such, and I get home. I decided to look up who I just spent the night out with on wiki- she’s fifty-five years old. Older than my parents. Not twice, but three times my age.