Dating story #7, a lesson in age appropriateness

AA.  It's new.  And no, it does not represent alkys anon in this case.  


It's {age appropriate}.


And apparently, it's a tad more important than I previously realized.  


Last night had me bouncin' around the city.  Good times with different peeps, and finally ending up at The-bro's new east village apt (Four 20-something boys. 1 giant party pad. You do the math).

I attempted to look cool while not dying and flashing the entire room as I wound down the spiral staircase [which, by the way, is impossible], and entered what I can best describe as a rockin' frat party.  Complete with Dubs, aka chewy.  Oh, and beer pong and other assorted drinking games that involve plastic cups.  You get the picture.  And if you don't, here's one to help. 

But it was definitely a fun time.  And of course always nice to see a chew toy.  Except not so nice to see him grinding, frat-style, with a semi-busted chick.  But that's what I saw at the impromptu dance party we had started later on in the night.  Which was the perfect cue for me to exit the premises.  That and the fact that Dubs also appeared pants-less at one point in the night, his signature move.  I guess the old trend of "dropping trou" (my dad's generation) is back and improved, with a new "removal" addendum!  Who else feels lucky??!


Regardless, I felt not one twinge of jealousy.  Simply a twinge of "Really, Lindsey? Ya ready to be over this phase now?"  To that, I answered myself with the affirmative mantra that I see every day affixed to the New Museum in my 'hood. 

Lesson:  There comes a point when you realize it's time to leave the chew toys for the young bitches, and try to hold out for REAL men. 
[Assuming they exist.  Still unconfirmed.]