A Little Long in the Tooth

Have you ever heard the expression, “Long in the Tooth?” I hadn’t until this week. Let me tell you about it:
But first, let me share a picture (Circa 1989) that makes my heart smile:

photo 1

I went to a local restaurant the other day. I was waiting on the bar tender and I started chatting with some older townies to pass the time. Here’s the convo after literally three minutes:

Old Townie: “…how old are you? I’ve got a 25 year-old son and I bet he’d love you.”

Me: “I’m 27,” I smiled and replied, confidently.

….*crickets*….

Old, rude Townie: “Oh…well, I think you’re a little long in the tooth for my son.”

Me: I didn’t get it. “I’m what? I have big teeth?”

Old, rude Townie: “No. Just long in the tooth.”

Me: I looked to his buddies for some help. One of them replied, “I think that means you’re too old.”

I’ll let you use your imagination and guess what my reaction was. Choose:

a) Oh really? I missed the cut? Dang itttttt. What if I get botox? What if I can guarantee to act like a 19 year-old? I’ll wear my Uggs with Nike shorts. Anything–I’ll do anything. PLEEEEASSEEEE.

b) ARE YOU SERIOUS?!? OH, SO TWO YEARS IS THE BREAKING POINT FOR COMPATIBILITY? 27 IS NOT OLD–YOU OLD, WRINKLED GEEZER. YOU SUCK *turn to his buddies* AND YOU ALL SUCK. **throw beer in his face, smash the glass on the floor, and walk out of the bar in triumph with my hands over-head and everyone clapping**

c) Oh. Ok. Well, it was nice chatting with you. Thanks for the insult and goodnight, boys.

Ok, the right answer was “c.” I got really flustered and just walked away.

Side note: Horse’s teeth grow with age so folks can make a rough estimate on how old one is by looking at their teeth–hence the phrase “Long in the Tooth.” Whatever. I hate horses.

Now, was I actually interested in this man’s son before he made the “too old” comment? Absolutely not. I’m not big on meeting men in bars (or calling their sons). But my pride was hurt. He cut me deep. Real deep.

I work with college students every day and I’m always joking about how old I am–but I don’t really feel that old. 27 is still young right? You’re only as old as you feel, right?

And I guess I’ve never really thought about age when dating someone. I’ve always been told there is the “Half-Plus-Seven-Rule.” You take your age, divide it by half and then add seven years and that’s the minimal acceptable age you can date. So 27..divided by two…plus 7…equals..20.5. Yeesh. Let’s round up to 21. Er, let’s round up more to 23? Whatever. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I’m over it.

When did dating get so complicated?

Here’s a picture of me as a kiddo to make me remember the good ol’ days: When age was a single-digit and the only man you cared about impressing was yer pop.

photo 2

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