So I was at The Durham. Chucking out time. Had been making eye contact with a suitably-aged woman. Not bad. I guess she couldn’t help but admire the awesome t-shit I was wearing.
Outside. More eye-contact. Then … contact! Conversation with a total stranger! How novel!
With little preamble, she made a small confession. “I’m 42”, she mentioned casually, in passing. Perhaps a warning? I don’t know. I replied: “I’m 46”.
She was taken aback. Expression of surprise. “Do you use botox?”. I was flattered. “No,” I explained helpfully, “never been married.”
She left. Beats me why.