So…I’m getting older. This is something I’m not really excited about. Next month I’ll be 37. This morning I have a terrible story about getting older, things changing, and not realizing that they have changed…
I was excited to go out and get the breakfast buffet at Golden Corral (there’s nothing a fat kid loves more than gallons of gravy for pounds of biscuits). 
So I got up, got jeans and boots and a hat and a “country” style flannel-type shirt on and hopped in the car and left. 
I’d finished off plate 1 (I’d like to tell you it was fruit, but it seems silly to lie at this point) and I was standing behind a pretty gal getting blueberry muffins. She was dressed nice and stylishly, I figured she’d been at morning church. 
She turned without looking and knocked right into me, sending her muffin and cantaloupe and my…bacon and sausage cascading to the floor. 
She was embarrassed and apologizing to me. I said, “No ma’am you’re fine, it’s okay.” She asked if I was hurt, and I said “Only emotionally–I can’t eat that bacon now.” She laughed and I said, “I’ll get this mess picked up off the floor, I wouldn’t want you to get messy in that dress.”
She was shocked that I said ma’am and was so polite. I told her I was raised that way. It was then that the conversation took an odd turn. I was down on one knee picking things up and she said, “Are you here by yourself?” To which I replied, “Yes ma’am.”
“You’re not wearing a wedding ring, does that mean you’re single?” At this point, the sirens started going off in my head. “Red Alert! Beautiful young girl (I guess to be about 20) is flirting!” I did what any man in my situation would do. I sucked in my gut (a much harder task after a plate of buffet than you’d imagine). I puffed out my chest and, in a voice that was probably deeper than it should have been, said, “Yes ma’am. Recently single.”
Now, either this next part is true or my imagination gets the best of me, but this gal seemed positively delighted at this news. What she said next, as I slowly got up (and creaked mercilessly), was a shock to me. 
“Has anyone ever told you that you have kind of this really like, rugged look about you?” At this point I thought I was the victim of a joke, so I told her, “No ma’am. Most people just refer to me as fat and nerdy.” She busted up laughing, and put her hand on my arm and said, “You are so funny!”
I was on cloud 9. Cute 20 year old here, giving me all the attention I could handle. I kept thinking, “ha! I haven’t lost it yet!” Something seized control of my body then, I’m thinking maybe the spirit of John Wayne (the Duke knows I have no real social skills and would blow this opportunity) and I said, “well pretty lady, I thank you kindly for that (I’ve never said that in my life before), and I’ll let you get on to your breakfast. I’m Rob, by the way,” and reached out to shake her hand.
She shook mine, and said her name was Chelsea. And then asked me a really odd question, “Where are you sitting?” I pointed out to her, doing my best to demonstrate my superior, manly geographical skill set. She said, “I will stop by and say good-bye before leaving.”
I almost panicked and ran out of the restaurant. But, I held it together. Come on–I’m closing in on 40 and I’ve still got what it takes to reel in these young lasses. For the remainder of my meal, I was checking myself out in any reflective surface I could find, just admiring the obvious beauty God gave me. 
I looked up from my musings in time to see Chelsea and another, older woman coming to my table. I stood up to greet them, and Chelsea turned to the lady and says, “Mom, this is Rob, the guy I was telling you about.”
For those of you reading this, the truth may have dawned on you already. For some reason, I didn’t see it…yet. 
Chelsea turned to me and said, “Rob, this is my mom, Becky,” and I reached out and shook her hand. “I was telling her about you after our accident earlier. I dragged her over here to meet you.”
I smiled at Chelsea, oblivious to what was happening. “Well I can see where you get your looks from!” Was all I could manage to say. “See mom, I told you he was sweet!” As she have her mom a look. 
There was a weird pause when the three of us just stood there. I guess I could have invited them to join me, but as I mentioned earlier, I have no social skills. 
Then, breaking the silence with a hammer, came this phrase from Chelsea: “so…would you like my mom’s phone number?” Me, stupidly answering it with maybe the dumbest question possible, “Umm sure? Why?” 
As soon as I said those words, I realized what was happening. I’m pretty sure I went beet red. I felt like the room was spinning. The two ladies looked at me slightly confused and I think her mom realized what had happened. 
Her mom chuckled a little, then handed me a business card. “If you’d like to get coffee sometime,” she graciously offered. Not to miss an idiotic beat, “I responded with, “Oh I don’t drink coffee.”
I can tell the lady is nice, because she laughed, at least covering for me to make it look like I was joking. We said our good-byes and I sat down to finish eating. 
I will not tell you how many breakfast plates it takes to drown your embarrassment in syrup, but I can tell you that I gave it the ol’ college try. 
So look out, middle-aged moms! I am apparently on the prowl at a buffet near you!