What Is Wrong With These Gorgeous Women?

The joint is a small, upscale pizza, beer & wine bar. In the corner sat my friend, George, singing and strumming on his twelve-string.

In front of me and partially obscuring my view of George was a party of eight. They munched on pizza, drank red wine and enjoyed the conviviality of their group. The women, about 22-25 years old, all with long hair (a blonde and three brunettes) sat with their backs to me. Each was attractive, slim, fit, manicured and well dressed. As they turned their heads to address the friend sitting next to them, I could see clear, smooth facial skin accented with mascara and lipstick. They laughed, smiled and talked among themselves with the comfortableness of old friends.

Two of the women were sexually attractive to me, and I could definitely be interested in either one of them. But as desirable as the women were, I knew after returning from a visit to the restroom that there was something wrong with them. It was something that I had not perceived earlier while just sitting there and enjoying their presence.

The fatal flaw is that I am 30 to 35 years too old for them. You don’t realize that fact just sitting there staring out from yourself at a woman of your desire. You subconsciously transport yourself back to the physical persona that you were when you were her age. A look in the restroom mirror shocked me back to reality.

Eventually the party arose from their table. Each women left with a male of her own age. That’s as it should be, even if none of those males can hold a candle to me.