I’m Back! I’m Back from the Future!

I’m so sorry. This post is technically from last March. But it’s such a strange story that I’m sharing. That, and I’m sure you’re all wondering if GoldDust and I pulled a Thelma and Louise and drove off a cliff to escape you all. We didn’t. We still exist. Believe in us.


Lately, if you’ve been keeping track, I’ve been asked out on a number of occasions. Not really, I’m completely lying. I’ve been asked out thrice, and all the occasions were by young’ns with peach fuzz and vertical driver’s licenses. I never had a vertical license. It’s bizarre, really. My quarter life crisis is that I don’t look like I’m a quarter century old.

I have issues.

All this youth in my life made me remember this tale from last year. And reminded me: I need to stop dating down. Granted, I never actually dated this guy. I hung out with him once. That doesn’t count…right?

Originally posted March 12, 2011.
I texted Poof last night, probably midway through the second period of the Wings/Oilers game. I really wanted to be AT the game, but just couldn’t bring myself to dish out the required $90 that would have gotten me there. A girl has limits. Scratch that. A girl’s bank account has limits.

I digress.

So, I text Poof midway through the 2nd period. The wings are down by one. We’re losing to the Oilers. That’s not right. My fingers are crossed. I believe in the Wings. But I’m in a bad mood. I need good things to happen.

L.A.: Should I go hang out with a minor?

Poof: Nooooo

Poof was pretty adamant on this. So I listened, for part of the night. LeBebe was occupied with showing off for BabyDaddy’s parents so I instead escaped to the wonderful world of Buffalo Wild Wings for some old friends, hockey talk, and the third period.

I arrived just in time for Lidstrom’s equalizer.

I ate some boneless wings, drank a tall beer, talked about topics involving my high school playing hockey at the Joe for the State Championship or something like that. LET’S GO COUGARS, etc, etc.

Before long, however, I found my compatriots heading out following the OT win (Datsyuk!), and leaving little L.A. with nothing to do.

I’m sorry, Poof. I saw the minor.

His house ended up being fairly close to where I was at, and being that it was only around 11, I stopped by to say hi.

Now, the minor isn’t illegal. He’s 20. He’d need me to buy him alcohol and he couldn’t come hang out with me in a bar. But it’s not illegal.

So things could be worse. We talked about high school, and about my high school being awesome in hockey. We came to the conclusion that when I was a senior, he was a lowly freshman. Weird.

Minor put on SportsCenter and we watched the highlights from the game. He put his arm around me, because in case you didn’t know, hockey is really romantic.

Seriously. You can propose to me at a hockey game. Especially if you’re Darren Helm.

In this case, however, it was kind of weird. This young boy just put his arm around me, and then his mom brought us brownies. She warned me to be careful, because they were just out of the oven, and we didn’t want anyone getting burnt.

Thanks, Mom.

At this point, I’ve realized. Holy Shit. I’ve time traveled back to 2005.

Young Doc: No! It can’t be; I just sent you back to the future!
Marty McFly: No, I know; you *did* send me back to the future. But I’m back – I’m back *from* the future.

At this point, it’s time to run. It’s moderately early, but I’m freaking out. Isn’t this why I have friends my own age? I’m debating how to plan a smooth exit when this happens.

“You know,” Minor tells me. “I’ve got this old jersey, and it just doesn’t fit me anymore.”

“You should save it,” I tell him. “Give it to your kids someday [when you’re old enough to have sex.]”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think guys do that. I’ll probably throw it out before then.” He then gets up and leaves momentarily.

Five minutes later, he comes back and he throws a jersey at me. It’s a legit jersey, not one of the crappy fan jerseys. It even has the Konstantinov patch (see picture at top) on it. It’s definitely too small for him.

“It’s yours if you want it,” he tells me, sitting back down.

I pull out my phone and text Poof at a furious pace, which is actually about how quickly Poof’s dog can text. Poof’s dog has no thumbs.

L.A.: Can I take a hockey jersey from a random minor? Is that taking advantage?

Poof: Yes and no.

It doesn’t take more convincing. I take the jersey. I hug Minor goodbye. I leave with a Shanny jersey, my morality [mostly] intact, and a zip-lock baggy filled with Ghiradelli brownies.

I think his mom liked me.

Then, I hopped into my DeLorean and drove back to 2011.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe there is something in my DNA that attracts people far out my age range to ask me out and put me into awkward situations that I can later blog about.

Or maybe it’s because I went to a high school with a motto that pretty much designated that I’d be asked to prom at 25. The world may never know.



About L.A.

Mom Life/Engaged Life/Blog Life/Love Life

Posted on July 9, 2012, in DeLorean DMC-12, Fix My Lighthouse and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 18 Comments.

  1. I’m confused on how taking something from someone after you’ve had sex with them is better? haha That is getting dangerously close to some sort of sex bartering system. I’m pretty sure that is a real life thing for some women, but I’d always hoped that no one actually thought about it. I hope my personality can effect this some. I don’t want to have to bring a bag of swag just to get some sex from a woman I like. haha

    If this system is in place for women though, I am owed a lot of sex. I just naturally give stuff away. It’s not a get in someone’s pants thing because I give stuff to my male friends too. I’m not really that big on my possessions so when I can tell someone wants something a lot more than I do I sometimes just give whatever it is to them.

    • Well, I’m not saying that it would be a trade of sex for stuff, haha.

      I meant more…you get gifts if you’re dating someone…I give presents because I care about someone…I just kind of made a crude analogy by turning that into

      Sex = Gifts

      No Sex = No Gifts

      Especially because Minor DID want to kiss me, and I think he expected it because he was being nice by giving me the jersey.

      • To me if he thinks giving you a gift entitles him to something then he doesn’t deserve anything. In my opinion a good deed done for the wrong reason isn’t a good thing at all.

      • Well…he got no kiss, and I got a Shanny Jersey.

        I can’t complain.

        And he didn’t complain, so I guess all’s well that ends well.

        He did text me to make sure that I got home okay…and to say that he really wanted to kiss me.

  2. What a difference a few years make. I’m only 2-3 years older than him but he seems so juvenile. Like at any moment he is going to give you his letterman jacket and ask you to go steady. haha

    • I told you, it was like going back to high school!!

      But don’t worry. I’m not going to get “pinned” or anything by the minor. I don’t think I’d be able to date someone who can’t get into bars.

  3. Youre practically old enough to be his mom.

    And isn’t NiceGuy the minor-lover? Once you cross that line, there is no coming back

    • Don’t worry. NiceGuy can keep his throne. I’m not dating the young’un and I crossed no lines into something-might-happen territory.

      Also, I am not in fact, old enough to be his mom. He was born when I was three.

  4. Let’s go, Cougars (clap, clap, clap clap clap)

  5. Being the son of a retired cop, that adage is true in my book.

    Your minor situation isn’t as bad as bad as one I encountered years ago. It was 2004, I was 23 (had just moved to LA), and had an online dating profile to try and meet new people.

    I had been talking with a girl (18 yrs old) down in the OC for about a month when she sends me a message saying something like, “I’ve really liked talking to you so I wanted to be 100% honest with you. I lied about my age on the site. I’m actually 17 and won’t be 18 for another few months.”

    Me. “SH**!”

    At least we never met in person until AFTER she turned 18.

    • Haha, so you were never technically doing anything illegal! That’s positive!

      …although, I have to wonder…why did you meet her if she was technically lying from the get-go?

      “Hi, I’m a minor who can get you arrested, but I’m going to lie and pretend that I’m 18 to meet you. I’M AWESOME.”

      Silly people.

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