Eighty? Really?

I was exhausted, hot, and very cranky when I called M, tall guy from Brooklyn last night. In fact I was grumbling (silently) so much you'd think I was taking out the trash rather than calling the potential love of my life. However, M wasn't home, so I left a message saying I'd call again tonight.

Then I mustered my last ounce of energy and sanity and called O, the other Brooklyn guy whose profile sounded quirky and sweet. He was on the phone but said to call back in 15 minutes. I knew instantly he was on the phone with a date, and he later volunteered that he was, which he probably shouldn't do. The nice part was that the conversation was like him, quirky and sweet. He said he loved my picture.

Me: I've been told twice that I don't look at all like my picture, so be prepared for Picture Shock.
Him: I also loved your profile. I really like you much better than anyone, and that includes the one I was just talking to.
Me: Well, that sets me up for Meeting Shock.

He laughed. Today I got two emails from him. He doesn't want to be a stalker, but he "just wanted to say that I was enchanted by you, the humor and lightness in your conversation, and your voice itself." How nice IS that? Disconcerting: He added that I made him feel half his age, and since his age is eighty, that means he felt 40. Now, was he kidding (his listed age is 68) or did he lie about his age in the profile? Hmmm. Hard to tell by email.

Also mildly disconcerting: I asked what profession he retired from. He was a parole officer for many years. Me and a parole officer? There's an odd, not-good-on-paper combination. In spite of both of us liking Death Cab for Cutie, there may not be a whole lot in common, as they say. Plus he lives way out in the horrible hinterlands of Brooklyn, not far from where I grew up, which I consider toxic nuclear waste area. It seems unlikely at best. But I agreed to see him next week. And I'm having coffee with Short Scientist, N, tomorrow. And calling tall M tonight. So many men, so little time.