Page 3 of Flirting with 40

Did I actually just flirt with this guy who is definitely younger than I am and is positively more handsome than my ex, Paul, when everyone thinks Paul is the bee’s knees.

Bee’s knees?

Jesus. Definitely don’t say that aloud.

“Tell me about her.”

“About who?”

Why is he still talking to me?

“Your boss.”

He’s just being nice.

“My boss?”

Or lost.

“Yes. Horrible Heather I believe is what you called her. You said you were up for a promotion, but you don’t fit the mold or something to that effect. What do you do?”

Or anything other than the type of guy he’s coming off as because nice guys don’t talk to women like me.

Or rather, from what I’ve learned after half-heartedly entering the dating pool again, nice, young, attractive guys like him don’t talk to divorcées who are knocking on forty.

I stare at him, blinking for a few seconds as my thoughts run wild. “I’m in advertising. I work for a cosmetics company.”

“Which one?”

“Glam.”

“Nice.” He draws the word out with a nod while he takes a sip of his drink. I don’t think Paul bothered to remember what company I worked for most days. “And your boss. This Heather. She’s new?”

“By a few months. Yes.”

He rests his hand on the back of my chair in a casual pose, his fingers slightly touching my back.

“What’s the promotion?”

“Vice president of marketing,” I muse.

“Big time.” He raises his eyebrows and glances down the bar where a gorgeous brunette meets his eyes for a beat before he looks back my way unfazed. “Why do you think you won’t get the promotion?”

I part snort, part laugh. “Because she’s determined to bring a new, youthful vibe to the office. Easy for her, not so easy for me.”

“And how exactly does one make their employees have a youthful vibe and more importantly, how is she qualified to be the judge of that?”

“The youthful vibe will be demonstrated at the upcoming company retreat in the mountains where we’re to experience team bonding at its finest so that we leave feeling like a family.” I emphasize the last sentence in a singsong voice. “And she designated herself queen ruler of youthfulness.”

“Oh. One of those.” He snorts.

“Exactly.” Why does it feel so good to have someone seem to genuinely understand?

“Do you have something against the mountains?” he asks, his eyes alight with humor.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said the word mountains with a healthy dose of disdain.”