Columns » Dating Tips for Horny Boys

Dating Tips for Horny Boys

Flame-broiled Fantasy

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You know those young, sexy girls that wear red lipstick and run around with significantly older men? I am one of those girls. We are loathed by middle-aged women, shunned by our 21-year-old counterparts, and are the burning desire of most highly successful businessmen. Can you say sugar, Daddy? I like older men for a reason. Something happens when a man turns thirty: He loses some of that guesswork in the bedroom, starts mastering some Mmm! Mmm! Good! moves, and best of all, his stomach gets a little bit soft, providing the perfect pillow for groggy, middle-of-the-night blow jobs. I've never really been interested in men my age, and certainly not those younger than I, but after one trip to the Giant Burger, I've converted to the Church of Cradle Robbers. (Sure beats all that hefty grave digging.)

When I was casually invited to dinner with some friends in Lake Oswego, I never dreamed what awaited me: a sort of intoxicating, pretty boy-oasis speckled with bits of grease and three kinds of mustard. I was surrounded by acres of young, muscular gluteus and full heads of hair! I was particularly smitten with one young lad, who I have officially deemed The Cutest Boy Ever. EVER, I tell you! God, I hope he's eighteen. It's not like I would break the law or anything right? Right. Yep. No law-bending here. No siree. Oh, his hair! It was movie-star hair! He had this mop of blondish-brown hair, clean hair, mind you, flopping into his dreamy eyes. Upon sight of him I stopped dead in my tracks. Dear God, had I died and gone to schoolboy heaven?

Now, normally at this point or shortly after I would have sweetly, bravely busted a move, but fashion had eluded me on said night and I was paralyzed by a horrific twist of fate: The official Giant Burger uniform is a bright yellow T-shirt, and by some dreadful chance I happened to be wearing a yellow T-shirt! The humiliation! Aside from the fact that yellow is perhaps the most unflattering color of all time, I couldn't very well saunter up to the counter in what appeared to be some sort of lovesick cult following of the Giant Burger and its handsome employees. I mean, our T-shirts were practically identical save for the G. B. logo. Damn those impulse buys!

So here's the plan! I'll return for another one of those yummy cheeseburgers and "casually" leave this very column on the counter after I order! So! IF YOU ARE AN EXTREMELY ATTRACTIVE YOUNG MAN WORKING AT THE GIANT BURGER READING THIS RIGHT NOW, COME TO MY TABLE. I PROMISE I WON'T BITE TOO HARD.

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