Lately, every time I'm out and about in the 'hood, I see some older, not very well dressed grey-haired white guy with some cute little Asian girl who looks young enough to be his granddaughter.
At first, my mind is confused by their connection so it innocently runs through the possibilities. I think to myself maybe he has dementia and she's his caregiver? She's his housekeeper? Maybe she's just his neighbour and they happen to be walking down the street together. He's decided to learn Mandarin and she's his language teacher? Maybe she walks his dog? Maybe she's the wife of this gentleman's son? But, alas, I know none of those are accurate assessments.
And, then my mind immediately flips to a visual that positively grosses me out. I may at times even let out a little involuntary "ugh" as it comes to me.
Now, what worries me is that typically I'm someone who walks around in a bit of a fog. I'm daydreaming about living in a beautiful log cabin overlooking the ocean. I'm worrying about becoming a bag lady weighing options about where in Stanley Park I would sleep at night if I was homeless. I'm fantasizing about having sex with Johnny Depp. I'm calculating how many years it's possible to live somewhere without dusting before cobwebs begin to hang from the corners. You know, just the usual daily stuff that all truly "gifted" individuals use one-third of their brain power to contemplate.
So, the fact that I'm actually noticing these unlikely pairs isn't just unusual but I think, dare I say it, I may have stumbled onto a trend.
I find myself staring at these "couples" and suddenly I'm overcome by the urge to go over to him, get really close to his good ear (because you never know, he may be hard of hearing) and with a cautionary tone say very definitely, Aren't you getting dangerously close to exceeding the daily dose of Viagra you must take to go there with her? Watch yourself!
Someone should start making T-shirts for those little girls that just say, "Got Money?"
Do they all have major father complexes? What gives? Why would these really attractive young women even give some of these guys the time of day?
The least she could do for him if she's willing to be seen in public with him is take him to that men's store, Harry Rosen, and attire him in a way that whispered wealth, not pedophile.
Now I know what you're thinking. What's it to me? Maybe I'm just jealous. Maybe I'm jealous that I'm not writing about going out in the 'hood and suddenly seeing all these 50-year-old women walking on the seawall with really hot guys who are 20 years younger than them. Where's that world?
That world doesn't really exist en masse in the same way because, unlike men, women are more ecclectic, more generous in what they find appealing. That might arise from the fact that men get to see the goods up front, even while we are fully clothed, while women have to wait until men are naked.
It's kind of like buying one of those mystery candy bags at the dollar store. You have no idea whether the packaging is concealing something you'd really want or something that just isn't going to work for you at all. You know what I mean. You get a box of chocolates. You know you hate ginger. Sure enough, you choose one, and you bite into ginger. And, at my age, I don't want that kind of surprise. I've had a few of those and I didn't like them. Very disappointing. I want the sure thing, something I know I really want that fits well.
I mean it's not as if I haven't been a white version of one of those Asian girls when I was younger - with someone 20 years older than me - so who am I to judge?
Looking back I do recall the vague whiff of hostility coming from women of the same age as him; the raised eyebrows and the carefully concealed eye-rolling, but my old man was different. He had none of the tangible attributes - money, boats, beautiful cars, country homes, ocean view villas, power, influence, fame - that often make many women crazy about men who, if they lacked those, wouldn't even be given a single glance in passing.
Looking back, I have to say, at least I had the minimal amount of self-respect to be sure to avoid anyone who was wearing polyester, white shoes, a white belt and a hideous, undeniable rug, regardless of the size of their bank account.
Beauty and wealth. Priviledges and burdens. Imagine?
***
Every day I get a quote from this place called Choose Again. I thought it was rather fitting that having just written the above today's quote is the following:
What is your brother for? You do not know because your function is obscure to you. Do not ascribe a role to him that you imagine would bring happiness to you.
Thinking about this quote, I realize that I give everyone I meet a role which is ultimately a set up. It is my ego that gives someone a role to ( for instance) look after me and keep me safe. When this person does not live up to this role, and they won't because I have brilliantly chosen someone who will not, then I am disappointed. However, this is a blessing because the message I give myself under this role is that I am not capable and I can't do it. It is the belief that I must change, not the person.