I got asked out today!

And it wasn't by an 80-year-old man, which is my target demographic. (I'm not kidding, old men---thee of the giant, hairy ear--love me. If I had a little Anna Nicole in me, I could make a life of it.)

But this was not an old man. In fact, if I had to guess I would say that he was in his mid-twenties. A young, fresh-faced bachelor. Because of how rarely I have been the recipient of the advances of the young, fresh-faced bachelors of the world, I need to celebrate it.

It should also be noted that I called Dan directly following this to recount the event in giddy detail.

"Your wife just got asked out!" I said when he picked up the phone and then, after a moment of reflection added, "Am I not supposed to tell you that?"

Sometimes I'm not sure where the line is between Dan my husband and Dan my best friend. When something silly happens---like being asked out on a Tuesday by a random dude---Dan is the person with whom I want to laugh about it. It may not be the most compassionate move but he can rest, utterly assured, that my compulsive honesty will keep me from keeping this species of secret from him. (Though I'm pretty sure my honesty will be less appreciated when the phone call starts with, "Your wife just had a nooner...") I've been with Dan for nine years---I started lusting after him even earlier, at the age of 19---so the theme of my lack of worldliness when it comes to dating, having committed myself so early, is something that sits on the surface of our relationship. Basically, I have the dating experience of a child bride so it is with something like anthropological awe that I take in the foreign cultural phenomenon that is being asked out.

Today's near mating ritual occurred at a hospital lab where I went to have blood drawn per my doctor's orders at my physical this morning. After entering the building, a guy in a suit allowed me onto the elevator before him, a chivalrous move that I appreciate at a most basic level. (The prey did not yet realize that the predator wanted into said pants.) We engaged in the paltriest of small talk, though during our travels from the first floor to the second where he got off, the following facts were exchanged: He was tired and working and I was going to have blood drawn at the lab on the third floor.

I'm going to stop to say this: Had I even a modicum of interest in an elevator stranger, all horny would be lost the second he told me he was going to have blood drawn. I would be thinking, "Eww, I wonder what he has..."

We both said a courteous goodbye as the elevator doors shut and I continued to the third floor.

The next thing I knew he was entering the lab waiting room. I was quickly chauffeured to have my blood drawn and as the phlebotomist (Really, is there any better word in the the English language?) thread the needle through the vein and my blood spurted into her vials, I began to get suspicious of his presence there. I quickly dismissed this notion and then laughed at my seeming conceit after I saw Suit Guy talking business with the office clerk as I walked past them and through the waiting room back towards the elevator.

And then he came heading to the elevator too. Huh.

On our trip down to the first floor and our walk to the parking lot, I learned that he had just moved to the area for a job but had gone to college at Salve Regina, a sort of fancy pants school in Newport, RI which is a couple of towns away from where I grew up. We stood in the parking lot for a few minutes finishing our chat about this common ground and by then I was hoping he would notice the wedding ringed hand that I made sure to leave out of my pocket.

But he didn't. And as he was leaving he handed me his business card which he had scratched the word "Coffee?" onto, apparently while I was giving blood. (Much smoother than "Drop 'em," which was Dan wrote on his business card...)

It was then that I told Suit Guy that he had made my day but I am Sadie, Sadie, Married Lady. (To be clear, I didn't actually quote Funny Girl though I strive to do just that on a daily basis.) I almost just took the card and ran but I felt bad thinking of him wondering why the girl from the lab, who had a taped bandage on one arm (and also a Band-Aid on the other from a tetanus shot that morning),---come to think about it what was wrong with that girl?---didn't ever call.

He was a gentleman about it though and asked if my husband was good-looking because he dug dudes too. I kid. (He did however say that my husband was a "lucky guy," a part I emphasized when I told Dan the story mere moments later.)

"The ol' girl's still got it," I said. And then Dan and I both laughed, acknowledging that whatever it is, I neither have it now, nor had it then. I've never been the kind of girl with it which is exactly why Dan is amused by these stories rather than angry or jealous. (For the record, I am absolutely the jealous one in this relationship and would probably have some sort of tantrum if a girl ever gave Dan her number and he was dumb enough to tell me about it. Ultimately though, I think I'd be turned on. It would feel like the chase/hunt was back on...)

The whole thing has been a fun running joke between Dan and me all day. When he called later this afternoon and didn't get me on the phone he left a message saying, "Are you out to lunch with your boy toy?"

And then when he told me he was on his way home, I pretended to freak out, "You're coming home now?" And then, whispering off to the side, "You have to go now...he's coming home."

Just now he charged through the door exclaiming, "Aha!" He pretended to be looking around the apartment for a fella before joining me on the couch (where I am writing now), putting his arm around me and saying, "I don't take you for granted."

Then he went off to make dinner, leaving me to my writing.

I don't take you for granted either, bud.

Now, drop 'em.