October 11, 2010


When I was younger, I was a magnet when it came to the guys. Boasting to my girlfriends, I would point out a man in the room and say "That one there."

For some reason though, my companions did not seem particularly envious of my talent which was probably due to the fact that I was referring to my innate ability to attract any old, sad men in the room who needed to tell someone about their terribly tragic life, especially if they’d had too much to drink. If I was out with a large group of twenty or so friends, these old geezers would only ever seem to latch onto me.

This is probably due to the fact that when I wear my glasses, I look like a kindly school teacher.

I guess it could have been worse. I remember reading a true story about a bloke who decided after a few days holiday that he would continue with his scruffy, unshaven chin, which was very fashionable in Hollywood at the time. One day, he noticed the intent gaze of a female driver who had stopped to allow him to cross the road. Feeling quite chuffed at her attention, he stopped, turned to her and smiled. The woman held his gaze, then slowly reached across and locked her car-door. Suitably chastened, the man immediately returned home and shaved.

Fortunately I haven't managed to frighten off too many men over the years, well, at least not with my looks, but it was while I went out to karaoke one night recently with my girlfriend that I discovered that there had been a profound shift in my life.

At one point in the evening, we began chatting with a nice-looking man in his early 20's and though I would never admit it, I may have been a little flattered by his attentions. After several minutes though, the man in question began telling me all about his terribly tragic life. That's when I realised that this young bloke saw me as a mother-figure with whom he could share all of his problems!

I'm not at all sure I like the idea that men now look at me like I'm their mum! When did the transition from cute young thing to mother-figure occur and how come nobody warned me?

Obviously blokes still want to tell me all about their terribly sad lives, it's just that their ages have reversed. If I give it another twenty years, will I get eight year olds coming up and telling me about their terribly tragic lives as if I'm their nanna-substitute?

Frankly I am quite appalled, and a little miffed at this turn of events. If you happen to see my ego lying around anywhere, please pick it up and post it onto me. It's quite deflated and should be easy to slip into an envelope.

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