I turned around and ran like hell in the opposite direction. I would be so pissed if I missed my flight out of The Bahamas. I kept thinking positive thoughts. “I will not miss my flight. I will not miss my flight.” The airline had called the Homeland Security office after all, so they knew I was on my way, right? I refused to think for a second that the plane had left without me.
I arrived at the gate, panting, to find three flight attendants standing at the desk. The door to the plane was closed, but as soon as I arrived one of them grabbed my boarding pass and checked it while a second person opened the door for me. I half jogged, half speed-walked down the ramp, trying to catch my breath.
Note to self: Lose some fucking weight! That might make running a little easier should I ever have to run for another flight, escape from a burning building, or flee another date’s raging fiancé.
I entered the plane and was greeted by angry glares from my fellow passengers. Yay! They were the same annoyed looks I usually flash anyone who shows up late to a flight…or a meeting…or pretty much anything. “How dare you think your time is more valuable than mine,” their faces seemed to say. Luckily, I had an aisle seat near the front, and I quickly stashed my bag under my seat, got settled in, and the plane was soon on its way.
I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to get back to Seattle.
My weekend with The International Player was fun, and as far as dates go, it was pretty damn fabulous. I mean, none of my other dates have taken me out of the country or taken me to swim with dolphins. He had shown me an awfully good time. Yes, he was a little too insistent when it came to kissing and he needs to figure out what he wants to do with his life. But overall, we had great conversations and hung out easily together. It was not a bad date at all.
If you’re wondering, The International Player and I are still friends. He’s even developed a website for me, and we still chat occasionally on Facebook. There’s little chance for a serious, romantic relationship given that he screwed up his visa and can’t get into the country, but he’s asked me to meet him in Montreal at the end of the year for his birthday. I’m seriously considering it.
After my adventure in The Bahamas, I came back to Seattle and started working on building a business. I had made small efforts to do so for the past year, but in March I went for it full force. This, in part, my friends, is why you have not heard as much from me. My boss is a bitch!
There are still many dates to share with you to bring you up-to-date, and another career move along the way, but my date with The International Player opened my mind a little when it comes to dating younger men. With enough intelligence and a little maturity, I think dating a much younger man would not be entirely out of the question. For all of my fears about what my sons would think, in discussing my travel plans to The Bahamas, I found my sons were more amused than horrified that MOM was going on a date with someone their age. I don’t know how that would change if I ever wanted to marry a man their age, but upon finding out Man #42’s age, K2 said, and I quote, “you go mom!”
I’m a young 45, and I find most men my age extraordinarily boring. Sometimes I want to dress up like a rock star and go out dancing. I want to occasionally drink bourbon until three in the morning. I like to sometimes act silly or make inappropriate jokes, and I want to occasionally say what everyone else in the room is thinking without getting a look of disapproval. I need a man who will laugh with me or build upon my jokes instead of trying to suffocate me, and unfortunately, I feel suffocated a lot around men my age. I need to breathe. Let me tell you; there are a lot of old fucking men out there at forty-five.
I don’t know what will happen with The International Player, but for right now, I’m trying to decide if I have a coat warm enough for Montreal in December.