Random Conversations on Atlantic Ave
“Flirting is the gentle act of making a man feel pleased with himself.” – Helen Rowland
Last weekend, my friend, Carlyn, visited me from Massachusetts. Friday night, we went out on Atlantic Ave in downtown Delray Beach, Florida.
At one point in the night, we met some guys on a street corner heading back to my place. She talked with one; I talked with the other. They ventured off to the parking lot, and we headed back to my apartment.
Carlyn: “You looked really disinterested in the guy you were talking to.”
Me: I shrugged, “He was fine.”
Carlyn: “You rolled your eyes at him like three times. Didn’t you think he was cute?”
Me: “Oh. That’s funny. Did I? Actually, he was was kind of annoying. I didn’t notice whether he was cute or not.” (Note: The way the conversation went, his looks were the farthest thing from my mind.)
Carlyn: “Well, what did he say that bothered you?”
And so I proceeded to recap my conversation with him. We first talked about age. He was in his mid-40s, and he guessed I was 29. Since I am 38, being thought of as a girl in my 20s was awesome. But, then when I told him I was two years shy of 40, he asked me what kind of plastic surgery I have had. Really? Could you insult me anymore? I truthfully told him I’ve never been under the knife. Lucky for me, I’ve been blessed with some good genes, and I’ve yet to see a wrinkle on my face.
He didn’t believe me, but I insisted. The more he argued with me, the more frustrated I became. I thought to myself, ‘Where is this going, and why won’t he stop? Can’t he see I am not into this line of questioning?’
He then asked me if I believed in plastic surgery. I told him this was a tricky question. I had never thought much of plastic surgery when I was younger. However, the older I become, the more open to it I am. I have seen people get it done to smooth out wrinkles, making themselves look more youthful. How can I judge? Who knows what I will look like in another decade or two. Maybe I will want to hold onto my youth. Granted, I don’t like when it looks fake. I feel bad when I see women who are so desperately trying to be something they are not. In that sense, I do not believe in it. And, so, I flip flop.
He then proceeded to tell me he was a plastic surgeon, and in another 10 years, I would definitely need it. Now, I was really annoyed. This conversation should have ended already, and he just kept on insulting me. He asked what my mother looked like. Well, I have two mothers… one by nature and one by nurture. This was getting way too personal for me. I thought about my mother in Greece, and she always appeared old to me. My mother here is youthful and didn’t get her first wrinkle until she hit her 50s. I could go either way. I was not going to get into all of this with him.
He then told me he was from New York, and he had recently moved down to Florida. Great. I thought we could finally move on from all this talk about plastic surgery. The conversation was killing me, and I just wanted it over. I asked him what made him come down here. Being a drifter, I am always interested to know what inspires people to make such a change.
He asked me if I knew of a certain show on TV. I hardly watch TV, so I had never heard of it. Of course, it was a show on plastic surgery. He had been on this show, but there had been a “minor” issue with one of the woman’s procedures. She took it to the press and had ruined him. He had to close his practice in Manhattan, and so he moved here. He was brutally honest. Sometimes I wonder why men are so quick to expose their dirty laundry. It is not very attractive. I thought, ‘another person who needs to escape from the mess he made up north.’
Carlyn understood why the business card I held would end up in the trash by the end of the night. I guess I should take it as a compliment that I still look young for my age. But being told I must have had plastic surgery is definitely a turn-off. The random things people say never cease to surprise me.
