This Just In: I'm Buying Some Cats and Calling It A Day

I was told on Sunday that a lot of people won't come to my single's ward because it's too old. I cringed at the word. Instead, they would rather go to their family ward. Here was my question: if our new bishopric is able to get more people to come to our ward, inevitably they're going to be younger. Which means, gulp, I will officially be in the minority, and I will be one of the few who shares the title of old.

In a world where cougardom is becoming more acceptable, I've given it a thought or two. I mean, why not? Is it really so bad to date someone younger than you? I know couples who have done it. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher are 16 years apart, but frankly, she looks creepy so I can't really condone that relationship since she weirds me out. I mean, seriously, Demi, plastic surgery and botox is not always the answer.

So on Monday, we had a combined activity with a student ward from the University of Utah. I had expected, and gotten, younger looking faces--the frivolous, easy look of one who is unencumbered by responsibilities, bills, obligations, a 40-hour a week job. And I thought to myself, maybe I could date one of these guys. I mean, they're not that much younger than me.

And then a guy came up to me, his fresh face smiling as he asked if I would dance with him. I had met him when he arrived. I had given him a name tag. He gave me an especially flirtatious smile and I thought to myself that he looked a little young. But whatever, he walked away into the party only to show up an hour later asking me to dance. Once again I thought to myself, he looks a little young, but I wouldn't say no if he asked me on a date. We were learning how to country line dance and even a little swing. Surprisingly, I was loving it. Who knew? It surprises me the things I love that I expect I won't, and I think country dancing might be one of them.

"Where do you live?" He asked. He raised his arm and ushered me underneath it.

"About a mile from here. You?" I was sweeping behind him as he easily switched my hand from his left to his right which brought me back to the front and facing him.

"I live on Highland Drive, down in Sandy."

"Oh, I like that area, a lot of really nice houses are down there." He was now spinning me in circles and the song Any Man of Mine was playing in the background. I was feeling slightly breathless, woozy. Dizziness had taken over and I started drifting off, thinking about how I get dizzy too easily. Vainly, I tried to fight it. I was losing.

"Oh, yeah! That place is great! I love living there! I mean, I've lived there my whole life!"

This didn't surprise me. I meet people all of the time who still live with their parents. I was still mostly thinking about the dizziness, though.

And then he said, "Of course, I still live there. I haven't even gone on my mission yet!"

A record scratched in the distance, I'm sure of it, as I snapped back to attention. He laughed gamely, completely unaware. Picture me: my eyebrows darting up in surprise, a forced smile on my face and perhaps I started laughing a little too hard as his earnest face continued to smile. He was oblivious of what he had just said. I digested the news. I had received googly eyes from a (yes, this is true) A TEENAGER! And what may be even worse, I had thought that if he were to ask for my number I would give it to him. Even Chester the Molester might have thought he was a little young. Sniffle sniffle. Hiccup. Hand me a tissue, please. I've just said good bye to my youth. I can't even pretend to be one of you, my friends.

Sure, I take it as a compliment. He had no idea that I am 29--a full ten years older than him. Sigh. I can only attribute this to the fact that I am the product of years of a Clinique-labored skin regimen and 80 SPF sunscreen. I could be their poster child for diligent skin care and the positive effects of staying away from the sun. But I'm not going to lie, a little part of me died inside. I've never felt a separation in life as distinctly as I did just then.

It's not dating younger guys that's the issue, it's dating younger guys who are in the same sphere as you. And I saw it too clearly that night, if my ward becomes populated by cute, pre-mish, post-mish young people, well, there goes the neighborhood. I am SOL. I sighed again in resignation at the thought.

This thought took me back to a fortune I got last week: Opportunity awaits you next Monday.

So it was talking about next Monday, right?