This week I was scheduled to drop slides at work. It's something I like to do, and we get to speak pretty freely in there as there are only a few people in the room, and there is a bit of down time as you wait for your slides to dry before you can look at them.
I was working with two guys, one about my age (but younger), the other about oh, 29 or so. They are quite brash, but they don't bother me. It takes a lot more than boys being boys to scare me off.
While we are doing this, we listen to music on the internet as it helps break up the monotony. The DJ duties usually fall to one of the guys (they brought the speakers, it's a fair trade).
We have some new trainees working now, and as my field is predominantly women, there are some who happen to be quite cute girls, ink barely dry on their college degrees.
The other day, one of the quite cute girls was in there with us. I had changed seats earlier that day, so I was across from one of the guys and she was next to him, and the other guy was behind guy #1. Still with me?
We're working along, and I'm amused, watching a mating dance that I've seen since jr high unfold. I'm ignored, aside from a comment or two, of course, that is the natural order of things. I am married. With children. Not on the radar for their purposes. Which is fine. Sorta. Sorta not, let's be honest.
It's all banter, banter, giggle, volleyball in high school, giggle, giggle, softball, giggle, intermural college team, giggle,(I think I'm nauseous); "Really? Didn't you use kneepads?" guy #2 asks (I can't believe she made any mention of her knees, in a room with these hounds) giggle, giggle, fucking giggle, (no, I'm not bitter), giggle.
A song comes on, and one of the boys jokes, "I bet you weren't even a romantic dinner when this came out." (eyeroll)
The song plays for a bit, and she recognizes the artist. At that moment, guy #2 says, "This came out in 1987."
And she says, and SHE SAYS: "I was FOUR when that song came out." Giggle.
kill kill kill kill caw caw caw caw kill kill kill kill caw caw caw caw
Oh, someone shoot me in the forehead with some botox now, I can't take it anymore. I'm sure there is some in my purse. Next to my Geritol and Prep H.
I rolled up my sleeves, walked around the corner, and smashed her head right into the table.
(I didn't really, but thinking it, writing it, was really satisfying.)
Don't they know women only get better as they age? That older women know what they want, and are more...direct? No appetizer needed, we'll take a big bite out of the main course. We're fabulous. We're hot. I could run circles around my 24 year old self, life experience wise, all kinds of experience wise, and not even bat an eyelash. Most of the women I know...ah, it's useless.
Some things are wasted on the young.
It's the natural order of things. Boys will be boys and all that.
Luckily, there are still pockets of a few good men. I hear one snoring right up the hall.