My favourite story of a happily married, middle-aged woman crushing is not even my own. It’s a friend’s, and then mine.
About 4 years ago, my friend Bev decided to join the PTA in the name of making friends. She really didn’t have to as she’s the most social person I know, but she did. And within the second month of volunteering, she had already begun a committee to arrange a Halloween Dance, a party of huge scope and cost. But no one was worried because Bev can sweet talk her way in or out of anything.
3 weeks before the party, she called me, giggling like a lunatic, desperate to share where this party had lead her. Specifically, to a party store as she went to hunt down 280 balloons and found herself dealing with an incredibly attractive, party story owner, as she finagled her way into cheap balloons and more importantly, a bouncy castle’s worth of flirting. In that one hour bargaining session, it apparently got so “hot” and so “personal” that her mother (who was with her) proceeded to drop into every other sentence statements about Bev’s husband, like, “I think Don will do a great job of blowing up all those balloons. He’s got a strong mouth.” Regardless of the “Morals Momma”, Bev got cheap balloons and, as she tells it “A bra full of sweat, it was so hot”.
She demanded I go to the party store right away and scope him out so I too could enjoy a good gawk at the opposite sex. One can never have enough paper plates for Octoberfest, so I went the next day. It was May.
As I entered the store and plastered on my “Casual and Breezy Shopper” face, I realized I had no idea who I was looking for. She told me “Our age” so I figured it would be clear when I got there. Except the only male employee working , who was our age, was, well, cute, in a balding, slightly paunchy but has-a-kind-face, sorta way. As he helped me to locate my “this is all a ruse” purchase, instead of finding myself jaw dropped with admiration, I started to question if I really understood Bev’s type. Thankfully it took 23 minutes for Kind Baldy to find those plates so I had time to mentally debate.
Stuck in a web of lies I created and heading towards the cash to pay, I shit you not when I say the sliding front doors slowly opened (no joke…slower than normal) and in slow motion (I swear to you…romantic comedy slow) in walked in a beautiful specimen of Party Mart upper management.
I actually said out loud, “Ooohhh. Right.” Then I giggled.
So why do I share this story? It’s simple people. We don’t lose our sight, hormones, opinions or fantasies just because we marry or because we age. We may choose to stay faithful and merely tip our toes into casual flirting that leads to dangerously vivid fantasizing later involving balloons and party hats (and maybe Anthony Kiedis). But no one gets hurt if jealousy stays away.
The exterior may be middle-aged, but the interior remains a teen girl, daydreaming about almost anything. Including cutey boys.