I’m 32. I haven’t exactly decided what’s the oldest age is of a person I would date. So I’m experimenting. This guy was 42.
We meet for brunch, aka mimosas. He’s good looking and the conversation seems to be flowing well. We end up hitting up another spot across the street for a new scene. I think it’s going well until we start talking about dating history.
He looks at me and says, “Dating is like dumpster diving. You just try to find someone, wipe them off and hope for the least amount of damage.”
So while you are on a date with me, you tell me basically because I’m 32 and single, I’m in a dumpster and you just hope all my shit is still working? Boy, bye.
And that was the end of that. Good luck in your dumpster bro.