A BBQ joint with a good reputation, that’s where you’ll find me. And that’s where we pull in for a late lunch.
It is one of those sweltering South Georgia days when you start your golf game early enough to avoid becoming the roasted pig you’re about to enjoy. By now, though, we’re pushing 2 o’clock and it is past time to find some food.
First up, something cold, so I order a tasty IPA as we park ourselves at a high-top table in the bar and look over the menu.
That’s when she walks in.
I’d introduce you, but this is not my town, and I don’t know her. I’m guessing she’s 50-ish. Quite attractive.
She takes a seat at the table directly in front of me and is seemingly looking my way, so I nod and smile.
“How you doin’?”
“I’m glad it’s Friday,” she says casually.
My golf buddy and I go back to rehashing every golf shot of our just-finished round while waiting for some yummy brisket burnt ends.
A little time passes before our server comes by and puts a Bud Light in front of me.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Oops,” she says. “Wrong white-haired guy.” And she takes the beer away.
“Hey now!” I yell at her. “Don’t go makin’ fun of my hair.”
“You have nice hair,” says attractive lady, who is still looking my way.
Like most guys my age, I don’t have nice - or much - hair, but I thank her anyway and we swap some light, polite conversation.
Look, guys in their mid-60s are mostly past having ladies notice us. But even as a happily married man, I appreciate the compliment and assume she meant it as nothing more.
Except that she’s still seems to be staring at me.
Seems like I ought to say something else maybe, so as after ordering a second beer, I pretend she’s judging me and jokingly ask, “What? It’s Friday. I can have another, can’t I?”
“I think you should,” she answers, though she appears to be drinking water with her meal.
Lunch continues for both of us at our separate tables, but every time I look up, I catch her gazing my way.
Then my light bulb moment happens.
Me: Can I ask you something?
Her: Sure.
Me: There’s a TV over my shoulder, isn’t there?
“Yes,” she says, realizing almost immediately why I asked and busts out laughing, to the point she’s covering her mouth so she doesn’t spit out her food.
My buddy cracks up.
“Yeah, it figures,” I say with a smirk.
After lunch I walk over and shake her hand. “It was fun having lunch with you.”
“You too,” she says.
When I got home, I told my wife about it. She laughed.
It ain’t that funny, y’all. She could’ve been flirting with me. Possibly… perhaps… There’s an alter-world where it could have happened.
And just like that, I was back to being the same ol’ me.
Make that the same old me.
When I was younger, I thought this would be different.
*sigh*
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