IceCube Boy

Once upon a time at Bingo a funny, lovely IceCube Boy sat down next to me.

Tonight, here I sit, thinking only of him and his friends drinking in the lounge upstairs . . . wishing I had become more important.

A few days ago I would have said it was ON. He was flirty. He would watch as I moved. He would go out of his way to talk to me and invite me to the lounge to drink. There was tension. And then I made mention of how interesting and cool his grizzled old boss was . . . how I wanted to be him . . . and the grizzled old boss kind of took a liking to me and drank whiskey with me and told me I was beautiful . . . and now I don't know what happened.

Somehow the flirty and the tension with IceCube Boy has ended. And I miss it. I miss the exciting possibility of him. The IceCube Boy.

It wasn't like he was my super double plus love match . . . he's a Republican, after all. And he drinks fruit punch and Captain's. What kind of man drinks fruit punch and dark rum? But I sure liked the nervous and the expectant and the joy I could carry around all day waiting to run into him. And I sure would have like to get laid, to tell you the truth.

But now . . . I think our bloom has faded.

I tried. I tried to get his attention. I did get a kiss happy new year . . . but seconds after he ran away.

The Boss, you ask? Why do I flirt and drink whiskey with this grizzled old, unavailable man? (Boss Man has a girlfriend back home). Because he flirted back. Because he stopped playing pool because "why would I play a stupid game when I could drink whiskey with a beautiful woman?" Hello! Because he recognized the importance of the attention of a woman. Because he was shocked and pleased by said attention.

Young men don't flirt with me.

I'm not HOT.

I don't turn heads.

I'm interesting.

Old, grizzled men know the treasure of an interesting woman.

You know what The Boss said to me . . . which I'm sure the IceCube Boy may have heard?

He told me I needed to stop shopping for men in the boy's department.

Isn't that fantastic?

Who knows. Maybe a 55 year old, grizzled and cynical old driller makes more sense. The IceCube Boy is 31 -- 8 years my junior -- and isn't all that wise to the world, really. He wants to be "wacky" and "party." Good dude, you can tell. Very, very good dude. Smart Motherfucker. But young. He doesn't understand that he's interesting. He's trying to be fun all the time.

Boss knows. Boss knows what life is . . . and Boss knows how to talk to a Woman.

And, maybe it's time I realize I'm a Woman.

Who knows.