these days, when i ask women how old they are, the most frequent answer i get is not in the form of a number. they often give me this cheesy smile that i have grown to loathe and say “guess” in a kind of playful tone that makes me want to knock my own head into a brick wall.
guess what? what are they making me guess for?
when people ask me how old i am, i automatically blurt out my age. whether they think i look younger or older than my age is a non-issue, really. i am not offended when someone says i look older, as neither am i proud when someone says i look younger. it’s plainly and simply not a big deal to me. not that i don’t care about appearance, i am admittedly quite vain, but for some reason, age (or should i say a particularly lower age) has never been something i try to aspire to.
but since i have learned in various annoying ways that women get offended when you think they look older than they really are, whenever someone asks me to guess her age, i deduct 5 from my actual estimate. that’s to preserve my ass.
like this one who looked 43 to me. she goes, guess. i say, 38. tee hee hee i’m already 42 she says with a schoolgirl lift of the right shoulder. i think, well, you look already 43.
sometimes people really do baffle me.
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