“Well, I asked George Patras out last month, but he turned me down. He’s roughly my age.”
“Patras,” Shirley said. “The Dupont restaurant guy? Wasn’t he married to David Patterson—your banker and long-time friend, David Patterson—who died in a car accident?”
“Yeah. The restaurant is called David’s.”
“That’s a little creepy, Ralph.”
“George didn’t seem to think so... I don’t think. I mean, ithasbeen over two years since David died.”
Shirley shook her head. “It’s still weird, Ralph. He was probably being nice because you helped him with that property, too much history otherwise. Also, I would think it would be hard to get back on the horse after losing someone so tragically.”
“Rumor has it he’s dating a mailman now. Some Italian named Mikey.”
“Now, who’s the stalker?”
“It’s the Circle, Shirl. Gay gossip travels fast.”
“I’ll say.”
“So, where does that leave us?”
“You were telling me if you’ve been out with anyone else over thirty.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess not. Not lately anyway.”
“Are you only attracted to younger guys?”
Ralph shook his head. “No—not only. It just seems to happen that way... a lot.”
“Well, if it’s not patterned behavior—and I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here—have you ever considered that your face is plastered all over this city... and that some of these guys may be hooking up with you because you’re a celebrity?”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Shirley rolled her eyes.
“OK, yeah. Realty-Man gets me laid—guilty-as-charged. But I’m notactivelysearching for young guys, Shirl.”
“Well, you’re going to end up falling for one, and then you’re going to become a Realty-Mananda Sugar Daddy.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Shirley stood.
“I’m kidding. I see your point. Believe me, ithascrossed my mind.”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already. You’re a good-looking guy, Ralph.”
“Aw, Shirl... I didn’t know you cared.”
“Your face is everywhere. You’re in the top-tier of Baltimore-Washington area brokers. One of these pretty young men is going to wise up,play dumb, steal your heart... and your wallet.”
Ralph sighed. He glanced at the window, reflecting on the admonishment he’d just received from his receptionist, personal assistant, and friend. “You’re right. Maybe sometimes my eyes do gravitate to younger men. But it’s not conscious on my part—I swear.”
Shirley said nothing.
“I get bored at home. I hit the bars. It’s a younger demographic, Shirl.”
“Get on an app, or a dating site, Ralph. Set your parameters to a higher age... and standard,” she added.
