Concerning older men

Abel Tas #1. Not clever enough to do a whole lot at once unfortunately.

I know my stepmum occasionally reads this. I'm treading dangerously here. Little sis gave her and Pa the URL and I nearly died. Everytime stepmum and I talk on the phone, which isn't a whole lot, she asks about my love life. And I never fail to disappoint. It struck me last conversation with her that I could lie rather than making excuses for myself or feigning disinterest with the entire male species, glorifying in my ostensible independence. There is some consolation in that she has ceased telling me about the latest item of baby clothing she has purchased and put away. The pressure of being the eldest of three girls. And a spinster.

So no action above ground, it's all happening in my subconcious. I'm used to bizarre dreams, outer-worldly, super-hero powers (the heroine - unquestionably me), loved ones suffering, me failing to rescue them, black and white, technicolour. But last night I dreamt I got it on with an old guy. Really old. And rich. And married (but she had a toy boy). And he tried to make me jump off a cliff so we could sail away in his pleasure yacht that was anchored below.

Sometimes I find the people in my dreams are familiar in their essence, if not in appearance. But I'm struggling with this one. This guy was late 50s maybe even 60s. Potentials:

Old man on my street cutting down the tree outside his house who I passed a few times in the weekend. Wearing a red hard hat and glasses and a white beard he was redolent of the garden gnome I gave dad one father's day. I shall call him Harry. Harry looked very official with all his ropes and his traffic cones and his chalk on the pavement indicating "tree felling". I don't think it was him "who's your daddying" me in my dream however.

Sweaty treadmill guy at the gym. I know everyone sweats at the gym. Even cute little pixies stink. But this guy pours, and it sprays around splattering those within a five kilometre radius. It makes me gag and stare in a kind of Steven King Carrie type fascination. It may be apparent here that I'm not attracted to him and he's unlikely to be my dreamlover. Although I discovered a new found respect and envy of him this morning when I saw him polish off 7kms in less than 40minutes. Fucking shin splint.

Hot doctor at work. Okay he's 'distinguished'. (euphemism, euphemism). But there is something Sean Conneryish, self-assured, steely eyed about him. When I see him I watch him with interest, probably the only guy in the whole organisation that makes me stop and think, "yes, I am secreting gurlie pheromones, thank you". But I don't think I'm to the point I want him pinning me up against the shower wall, if that makes sense.

Pity though. Only getting laid in my dreams and he's an unidentified geriatric.

I will quickly write something intelligent tomorrow to atone for the blithering idiot I am tonight. After I have met the old doc who told me I was turning into a right little bureaucrat on the phone the other day. hmmmmm, another oldie.....