Table for 2, please. Not.

D D,

Our telephone convo was just "cut off" as I started to tell you all about my date this week.
That's right, my little mentee... I went on a real live, boy and girl dinner date. I assure you, this wasn't any ordinary date, though. The young man (and by young, I mean tres tres young... why, he's just turned the vibrant age of 23) is the athletic director at my school, which is not to be confused with the gym teacher, mind you. Anyway, without hurting any one's feelings, I will just say that we have absolutely nothing in common. Zilch. I'm not sure why he asked me out after I told him that I don't watch football and he responded in total disgust, "well, what do you DO then???" Anyway, upon meeting him at the restaurant, we ran into our school librarian, who is a very sweet, grandfatherley older man. We invited him to join us for a drink. He accepted this invitation but instead of staying for one drink, he spent the entire date with us. So my dear Deni, I essentially was on a date with the gym teacher- I MEAN athletic director - and the librarian. While the elder spoke of racial tensions he observed while living in Georgia in the 60's, the young professeur des athletes regaled us with tales of his freshman year binge drinking and how disappointed he was at the decline of his universities rating as a party school since his departure.
I also invited Megan to crash the date half way through, and she brought a friend. As we all sat together, this Motley crew of Motley crews, awkwardly sipping wine and commenting vacantly on the lamb tagine, my young friend whispered in my ear, "Just remember, age is just a number, Julia. What happens in Marrakech, stays in Marrakech..."
I can't help but wonder if he whispered almost those same words to another gal while on spring vaca in Cancun but a few months ago...

Aging gracefully,
Mrs. Robinson