Dear Very Cute Boy Who I Was Talking To The Other Night,
By my guestimates you are probably too young for me. I’d say by at least 5 years. Maybe more?
But I smiled at you and you saw my smile and immediately came over and introduced yourself (Even though I was talking to another guy at the time. I loved the way you just pulled me aside.). It was a strong move and I was impressed.
The club was insanely loud but you made a damn fine effort at making conversation. Although, to be honest, I couldn’t hear a word you said. Not a word. I couldn’t even hear your name. I guess I really am getting old.
I have no idea if you could hear me. You are at least a foot taller than me and so you had to bend over to let me shout in your ear. All of that bending and shouting was pretty ridiculous, come to think of it.
And it was already pretty late by the time we met. The party had been going on for 4 hours at that point. I’d already had plenty to drink. Plenty. I don’t know about you. Maybe the reason I couldn’t understand a thing you said was because you were slurring? It’s possible.
Anyway, I was intrigued enough (or drunk enough, does it really matter which?) to give you my card. That was 4 days ago.
I’m not saying I would’ve gone out with you. I probably wouldn’t have. What with the whole you being too young thing. But if you got in touch with me the next day and said the right things, I could’ve been convinced. Definitely.