Date Night

I was at dinner the other night and saw a handsome older man enter a restaurant and what follows is what I kind of observed and insinuated.

The distinguished older gentleman enters the restaurant, dinner jacket and dress shirt with just a tuft of gray chest hair peeking through, pressed slacks and shined shoes, the spring in his step accompanies the smile on his face. He briefly talks to the maître d and approaches the bar glancing back over his shoulder at the entrance before motioning to the bartender and ordering a drink – nothing too strong tonight but something to help calm the tensions and nervousness.

A date, it’d had been too long since he’d had a dinner date – he’d all but given up on ever having one again. He misses his younger days when he could pick and choose from the different guys that noticed his swagger or just begged for a kiss. But age catches up with you before you know it and the prime of gay life had passed many decades ago. He glances at the door and checks his cell, the young man should be here any minute. Maybe one more drink to sure up his confidence, this time a double.

He’s almost finished his third drink now and the time has come for his date to arrive. The bartender has tried to start up a conversation with him and he tried to pay attention but glancing at his phone and the entrance to the door it’s hard to keep track of the bartenders joke.

While he’s looking at his phone again it rings and he almost drops it. His eyes light up as he answers knowing his date is probably parking right now. Then his shoulders slump and his face changes the joy and expectation replaced by disappointment and confusion. He assures the young man on the that he understands, these things happens and he’s looking forward to rescheduling – trying to remain upbeat.

Ending the call and just staring at the phone for a good long while the distinguished gentleman then orders another drink and settles in for a night of forgetting and resignation.

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