I have been trying to find a reasonable conclusion on how to handle a delicate situation in my current love life. I have found out that my age group, the relentless, over rated "women' s sexual prime", advertised more fully by the hit TV show, Sex in the City, is definately a whopper of interest to just that-horney and single 32-40 year old women-

     In any case,  normally trying to relinquish these urges of optimal desire for a female, can sometimes lead us into a den of wolves and fools. For instance, last night I was happily engaging myself with preparing for an awesome date with a 26 year old male race car driver that  I have been avoiding going out with for the past month because of my lack of knowledge on the subject of racing and for the simple reason of feeling the age difference was too great for me to handle him or for him to handle me when I got a phone call from a gentleman in his early 50's with the same name as the 26 year old. Even though this should simplify my understanding of dealing with the male testosterone  factor, I was inevitably surprised when the 50 year old asked me to go with him on a hot-air-balloon ride!! What was I going to do?? I immediately sought councel in a good girl friend who also just so happenately has the same first name as my two dates that evening, -Joe-. 

    "When was the last time you were in a hot-air balloon Chris?" my girl friend asked me as she was laughing. 

    "That isn't the point, Joe," I told her. "I am not sure this is fair for me to have two great dates with two different Joes who have 25 years between them. I actually like them both too. I'm just not sure of what a woman is supposed to do in a situation like this and I kind of want to cry right now," I said as I painted my toenails with  a luscious coral red nail pollish. 

   "You, obviously either need laid or need to drop the whole dating scene completely," Joe said to me. "Somehow you have managed to come to a point in your singleness in which you need to decide what age group of males you feel you are mostly attracted to and are mostly attracted to you too."

   My girl friend has always been able to come up with superfluous answers to try to solve most of my problems but that wasn't helping me to make a decicion for that evening. I immediately touched up the remaining paint on my pinky toe and reached for my cell phone. I needed an answer for my problem and I needed it quick! 

   When the 50 year old picked up his phone, I noticed that the way he spoke to me was almost demanding with a little of distain in his tone of voice. "So," he said, "we will have to be there as soon as possible to make sure no one pays a little more than me, and we will have to wait for the next ballon-ride." Joe  works for the State game commission and claims to be a very responsible canidate for office one day.

   "Well," I said, " if I am not there by 4, then something serious came up and I apologize for missing an awesome invitation for a completely hair raising experience." I told the 50 year old Joe as he was cleaning and sorting his rifle collection. My girl-friend shook her head and smiled at me as I was hanging up with the 50 year old.

   "Now what are you going to do?" Joe asked me as I drank my coffee and scratched my head in complete befuddlement.

  "Do you have any extra pairs of fish net stockings?" I asked her while I began to file and prepair to paint my fingernails.

   "You know I do," she said. "They are off-black though and have that lacey trim near the ankles like that model on that Cosmo-mag."

  "Perfect!" I told her as my mind started preparing itself for everything required to out-maneuver and regain my optimal goal that evening- to have a fantastic time!

  It was exactly 4 o'clock when I pulled up to the club called "Jackson's". I wore my short  black leather skirt, Joe's Cosmo tights, a red satin cami, with a pair of coral red pearls. I kind of thought I looked "trashy" with a bit of "watch out fellas here she comes" way. The club was a bit empty though except for a tall, slender, attractive, dark haired man sitting at the end of the bar with a can of Budweiser in front of him. His black leather jacket had a racing logo on the back in yellow and green. I subtlely walked up behind him and saw his reflection in the mirror grow with a  luscious surprise when he saw me standing behind him. "You made it!" he said as I sat in the empty bar stool next to him. Joe turned and reached out to give me a more than welcoming embrace. His masculine scent of aftershave and 26 year old testoserone filled my nostrils.

     Many women may call me crazy, but at this point in my life, I don't feel "old" or "strung out". The funnest part of figuring all this out is being able to say, " I am independently wealthy in making my own mature decisions." The 26 year old Joe and I had an incredible time that evening.....