I have glimpsed my future...and it ain't pretty.

Since my mom is at my house this evening, and since Riley fell asleep early, I decided to go browse the magazine section of B&N for a nice bit of 'me' time.  I picked out my selections, found a chair, and settled in.  I was just starting to learn why Jen hates Angelina this week, when I was treated to a rather uncomfortable show:

A man and a woman are on a first-ish type of date.  How can I tell, you ask?  He was wearing khakis and a button up shirt (both were newly pressed, not something he'd worn all day) and she was also wearing khakis and a lacy, but still appropriately modest, top. And also brown boots with chunky heels.   It's Thursday night, people!  Anyone NOT on a first-ish date is wearing jeans and t-shirts and flip flops. Everyone knows this!  This is science, people.  There are studies to back this up.

Her bangs were high, her eyes were lined. His hair was mussed up in that "i'm-balding-but-I-can't-bring-myself-to-accept-it" way  **somewhat relevant tangent - if you are a man and you are going bald -OWN IT.  None of this "grow it out and mess it up" nonsense.  Cut it short-short-short or Bic it.  There is nothing sexier than a guy who is comfortable with this part of growing older. Be a man. Or at least, don't be a man with a comb-over.

Anyhoodles...they are on a first-ish date and they are all touchy but no touchy with each other.  Know what I mean?  The way she puts her hand on his wrist and takes it away quickly.  The way his hand goes to her waist, but then pulls back almost before he's touched her.  The way she looks up at him and then away coyly.  Awkward, people....AWKWARD!

And the conversation...oh, dear heavens....THE CONVERSATION!

"I love the ocean. I'd love to live by the ocean."

"Oh, yes.  Me too.  I love the ocean, too."

"There is nothing like the ocean, is there?"

"No.  I just love the ocean."

News flash, people!  EVERYONE LOVES THE OCEAN! (helpful tip: Listen to some NPR to prepare for your next date. )

It went on like this for a while, and finally I couldn't take it any longer.  I felt so embarassed for them, and I just had to leave. 

And then, on my drive home, it HIT me, like a wave of the ocean (I just love the ocean, do you love the ocean?)

THIS IS MY FUTURE!

In about 12-15 years, I will be THAT LADY with her awkward date, standing at Barnes and Nobles talking about the ocean and wearing khakis on a thursday night.  That's going to be me!  I will be wearing boots when it's clearly a flip flop night.  I will have big hair and eyeliner at a time when all hair should be in a ponytail and all traces of makeup should have worn away hours ago.  I will be uttering inane things and trying to not touch the person I am with.

I cannot imagine having time to date anyone again for at least the next 10 years, and by then, all my social skills will have disappeared and I WILL BE THAT FIRST-ISH DATE LADY!

Oh, the humanity!


I know everyone is all squamy-squamy this week, but I having processed my photos yet and I now have a serious emotional issue to cope with.

I have seen my future, and it ain't pretty.

I think I need a drink.