The 50 year old

So I've been reading a few other blogs lately and I realized that most female bloggers talk about dating far more than I do.

Now I really started this blog to talk about stripping, but let's face it-I'm not a very interesting stripper. I don't do crazy things at work. I haven't fucked any coworkers. I haven't started selling drugs. I partake in the ingestion of illegal substances every now and again but I don't have any gut-wrenching drug addiction sob stories. Don't fight with the other girls or participate in their drama. I'm a *gasp* boring stripper.

So...dating. I have dated since L and I broke up. There have been a few guys where a few weeks of dating occured. Obviously no serious relationships, but I'm really not mature enough for those it seems.

For this post I'm going to focus on the 50 year old.

The 50 year old was not someone I met through work surprisingly. It all started as I was walking through the cosmetic section of Bloomingdales one fine afternoon. Now I don't shop at Bloomingdales 'cause it's a little out of my price range, but I often park in front of it so walking through it is inevitable.

As I'm making my way towards the door a very pretty older lady stops me and asks if I'd like a makeover.

"Uhh, why not," I say, not having anything better to do.

As she's applying various things to my face we start talking about life. Jobs (I lie and tell her I'm a waitress), school, boys, etc.

When we get to boys I inform her that I'm single and she asks me what type of guy I'm into. I jokingly respond "Old and rich." She laughs a bit and asks if I'm serious about the old thing. I tell her that I do tend to be attracted to men at least 10 years my senior and having money doesn't hurt.

"I have someone I think you should meet," she says.

Makeup lady then proceeds to tell me about the 50 year old. "He's very wealthy, if you start dating he'll probably take you shopping and stuff a lot."

I'm sold.

This is it, I tell myself. This is what I've been waiting, no, hoping for.

She then inquires if I would mind her giving the 50 year old my number and in the name of shopping sprees I tell her to go ahead. I go home in an overly optimistic mood and start fantasizing about living the life of a sugar baby.

This is going to be a fairly long...story...so I'll continue this post tomorrow.