There’s just something about younger men.
When I was visiting my stepdaughter recently, a friend of hers stopped by with her little boy. To protect his identity—and also because I can’t remember his name—I’ll just call him Tyler. He was about three, with dark curls and big brown eyes. And cute. Had he been a puppy at the pound, he would have been the first one to be adopted.
Tyler was sitting with his mother on the couch when I came into the room. I asked him, “Is it okay if I sit by you?”
He looked up at me with a big smile and said, “Oh, yes!”
It was the delighted response you’d expect from the nerdiest guy in the singles’ bar if the most beautiful woman in the place asked if she could join him. It made my day.
And I didn’t even have to offer to buy him a drink.