I met two interesting men on successive nights this past week. Both were attractive, stylishly dressed, charming, smart, talkative and successful in their fields. I'm sure I'd enjoy spending more time with either of them - one was tall and preppy, with a dimpled smile and a shrewd business mind; the other was a fascinating storyteller and international sports champion.
We exchanged cards. However, the likelihood of my seeing either again soon socially is low, because I just did a little research and Mr. Dimples is 29, and Mr. Champion is 80. And despite the frisson of possibility - and feeling amused by the age difference between them - the gap between either one and me is probably too large to surmount, though Dimples is closer in age, and his appeal is less complicated.
As I was thinking about this earlier, I went for a walk, and saw a handsome boy of about 15 waving at me a half a block away. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said as I got closer. "I thought you were someone else. You look just like my friend's mom."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said with a smile, and walked on.
(Post title from Measure for Measure, Act 3, Scene 1.)