Like most people, I have tried a little bit of everything along the way. One of my most memorable experiences was the year I served as a stockperson in an Ames department store. I had recently graduated from college and found out that the world was not my oyster. I thought I would walk into a high-paying job and live happily ever after. Instead, I wound up working on a second bachelors a few months later, and I had to support myself somehow. Ames? I guess beggars can't be choosers, and I was certainly begging.
I can honestly say that I was relatively attractive back then; now, I'm not so sure, but that's irrelevant. Anyway, the store manager pointed me toward a few boxed up lawnmowers and said, "We need displays. Get busy!" I spent the next four or five hours assembling some off brand of cheesy push mowers, and I was fairly engrossed in my work. I did look up from time to time, and on more than one occasion I saw a very attractive older woman (45) walking past and eyeing me up. She wore a store nametag, and I later found out that she was one of the assistant managers. To keep things simple, we'll call her Susan. Over the next few days, I saw her here and there in the store, and I learned a thing or two.
Susan was a cougar before Kim Catrall made it cool, and we would have a few odd experiences before my time there ended. Let me explain my feelings. I was 22 years old, and this woman was literally old enough to have been my mother. On the other hand, she had everything working in her favor. Stunning kind of sums it all up. She was flirty, to be sure, but in spite of numerous warnings, I never took it too seriously. Then there was that night in the store's "food room." The person in charge of the seasonal candy aisle had an order for what seemed like hundreds of boxes of chocolate and such, and I was back there loading it up on a cart. Susan came in and closed the door behind her.
"I have the key," she said. "I can lock the door from the inside. Can you imagine the trouble we can get into in here?"
Yes, I could. A million thoughts went through my head in a matter of seconds. I could break into Virginia Woolf mode and do ten pages of stream of conciousness about what happened during the ensuing fifteen second pregnant pause, but I'll keep it short. My heart was doing about 120 beats per second, and the sweat beaded on my brow. The words that came out of my mouth were something between pig latin and gibberish...
"Ummm, uh...I...uh...ummm..."
A look of disappointment came over her face, and she said, "Well, I'd like to keep my job, and there's nothing we can do about it here." I'm paraphrasing, of course, but I can remember the mood as if it were yesterday.
I had made a few friends in the store by that point, all my own age, and I didn't want them to think that I had any interest in this OLD woman. However, saying that I was frustrated in my own right doesn't even begin to cover it. I thought I knew everything about...everything, but I really knew nothing. During my stay there, she kept coming on, and I kept ducking the issue. I guess sexual harrassment isn't a big deal when a woman does it to a man. Maybe it is, but I certainly didn't mind it. I can honestly say that the double entendres, innuendos, and flirting alone made this the best damn job I've ever had. I actually looked forward to going to work and making my $3.50 an hour. I wouldn't get off the couch for five times that these days, but... Anyway, it gets better.
Summer came around, and Susan was about to go on vacation. She was staying home for a week, and before she left she said something about coming out some afternoon and rubbing suntan lotion on her. I laughed it off and made some comment about not wanting to get that greasy crap all over my hands. I walked off in an aloof manner, and, surely, I looked really cool while doing so. Then I turned the corner and winced. "You idiot," I thought. "What are you thinking?!" It was all about looking cool and eluding the attack of the cougar. For the next week, I thought about suntan lotion and other such things, and I must have taken twenty cold showers during those seven days, but I did decide to turn the tables as soon as she came back to work. Honestly, I was falling in love or lust or something, and the time to do something about it was long overdue.
A few days later, we found ourselves in the upstairs stockroom, and she did her usual thing...flirting and using her feminine wiles. Then I did it; I came on to her and the results were positive, but something in me made me chuckle, and I backed off and said, "Gotcha!" That was pretty much the end of that. Within a month or so, I moved on to another job, and as most young guys do, I forgot about the whole thing. About a year later, I ran into her in a grocery store parking lot, and I tried my luck again. We had a brief conversation, and then she completely dissed me and hopped into her car. Looking back, I guess I would vave to say bravo for her.
Today, I'm forty-five, and if somebody who looked like Susan made a pass at me, I would probably have a heart attack! Thank God for writing about life's experiences. I have never figured out whether or not playing it (too) cool was the thing to do. If I could relive the experience, I would probably do things differently. Probably? Hell yes, I would do things differently. Eva Longoria's character on Desperate Housewives (among others) has made May/September romances seem like the thing to do. Okay, on second thought I'm lying. I'm a typically stupid male and I wouldn't know the difference between good/bad, right/wrong, or anything else if it hit me between the eyes. Essentially, it's 23 years later, and I still haven't figured it all out. I probably never will.