The Old Man and the Leopard Lady

"I'm going home with her tonight," he said as he sipped on his Martini. He was leaning against the bar at a wedding reception for his friends' daughter when he bragged about his plans with the bride's twenty-year-old maid of honor later that evening. With a confident grin on his face, he told the bartender, "Yep! A little evening delight headin' my way." He gulped the last bit of his drink, laid his glass down on the bar, and swaggered after the pretty young girl of his desires.  At fifty-something, but looking sixty-something, he did not have what the world (and the maid of honor) values: youth, beauty and, of course, money. If he had been filthy rich, he might have been excused for having succumbed to old age, and his evening might have turned out differently, but as it was he went home alone, again.

She looked in the bathroom mirror and sighed. Maybe it was the lighting. Surely, she didn't look that fat and old. She knew she didn't look eighteen anymore, but she didn't realize she had that many wrinkles and frown lines and gray hair and when did she get that spare tire around her waist? Everyone told her she looked young for her age, so there was definitely something amiss with the lighting. At forty-nine she was still thirty. At heart. And that's what she told everyone she met on Match.com.

Single, non-smoker, occasional drinker,

spiritual, sensitive but not overly emotional,

love puppies and kittens, anything "hearts,"

fluffy pillows and watching The Bachelor.

Love romantic getaways w/ that special one.

Young. Pretty. Thirty. At Heart.

His profile said he was thirty-eight and he appeared to be perfect. She sent him an out-of-focus ten-year-old picture, and arranged to meet him at Bubba's Bar the day after the lighting in the bathroom had gone amiss. Not to worry, though.  Botox would smooth out the wrinkles, the tanning salon would camouflage the age spots, Miss Clairol would cover up the gray, Spanx would trap the fat, and lots of makeup would disguise the rest. Besides, Bubba's was dark inside and after a few drinks, her great personality would blossom and win over Mr. Perfect.

"I'm NOT going home with her tonight," he said as he sipped on his Martini. He was standing at the bar scrutinizing all of the women and eliminating the ones his age as they walked by. He was looking for someone young because he was young. At heart. Dating younger women was perfectly normal for men in their fifties and beyond, he believed. Men were never too old to appreciate and desire youth and beauty.

Her hammer toes made it difficult to squeeze her feet into the 4" high black leather boots covered with pink heart-shaped rhinestones. It took longer than she expected, and it made her later than she had planned. But her tardiness would be excused once he saw how dazzling and sexy she looked in her form-fitting black leotards and leopard skin fake leather jacket that, when unbuttoned, revealed her enormous and natural-looking implants. It's true. She did look, well, incredible. Everyone stopped what they were doing and gawked as she slow strutted up to Bubba's bar. 

"I wonder who will be going home with her tonight?" he whispered to himself as he sipped on his third Martini. He had been waiting on someone, but now after seeing this beauty, he couldn't remember who. Since forty his eyesight had been failing him, and at a distance, the leopard lady at the other end of the bar looked liked someone he wanted to meet. 

She had been in Bubba's for only five minutes when a sixty-something man approached her and asked if he could buy her a drink. She looked around for her date--he would be the nice looking young man, thirtyish--but there was no one fitting that description in the room, so she accepted the older man's offer.

After he bought her her fourth drink he remembered why he was at the bar. He was meeting someone and she was late. Maybe she had come, had seen him sitting with another woman and left. He hoped that wasn't the case because upon closer examination, it was obvious that Leopard Lady was charming with a great personality and had been a real beauty at one time, but she was not as young as he preferred his women to be, and she was not up to his high standards. He wondered if he should excuse himself and go back to the other end of the bar and wait for his date.

She had been stood up, again. At first it was just moist eyes. Then the tears began to run down her face which she quickly blotted away with a napkin so her mascara wouldn't run and ruin her makeup that took an hour to apply. She knew better than to have that last Daiquiri. Four Big D's always brought up the sadness, even when she was happy, or thought she was. She laid her head down on the bar and began to silently sob. No one appeared to notice and when she sat back up she saw that the pleasant older man who had sat and chatted with her for the longest time was sitting back at the other side of the bar. "Just as well," she whispered under her breath. "Surely he didn't think I would be going home with him tonight?"

At midnight, after an entire evening sitting at Bubba's Bar, he decided his thirty-year-old on-line date wasn't coming. Now sober, he paid his tab and headed for the door. Leopard Lady was also leaving. They walked together but separately to the parking lot but when she stumbled, he hurried to break her fall. "Should you be driving?" he asked with sincere concern.

She got to the door of the bar at the exact same time the old man did. What bad timing, she thought. She didn't want the uncomfortable task of rejecting him--even though it was plain to see he had been quite handsome in his earlier life, she preferred younger men--should he ask to see her again. As they were walking to their cars she twisted her ankle and began to fall. The man quickly grabbed her arm and held on until she was able to regain her balance, but it was true. She probably should not be driving.

"Would you like me to take you home?" the older gentleman asked.

"Are you sure it's not a problem?" Leopard Lady answered.

"Not at all. I have no plans. My date never showed up tonight, so I'd be happy to get you home safe and sound."

"My ride home didn't show up either, so that would be very nice of you."

So off they drove, into the night, the old man and the leopard lady. Through the dark and empty streets they continued where they had left off at the bar. Their conversation was comfortable and the humor and laughs came easy. When she pointed our her house, he pulled his car into her driveway and walked her to the door. They shook hands, bid each other a good night and never again did their paths cross.