Sunday Breakfast: Scottish Eggs Benedict and Coffee

I was flirting with a very hot busboy at Geoffrey’s in Malibu on Sunday. (I really could eat brunch at Geoffrey’s every weekend and be very happy.) Busboy was very blonde and had slightly crooked teeth, though nowhere near scary British teeth.

Geoffrey’s seems to hire a large percentage of Caucasian/surfer guys—usually the opposite of my type. I’m into dark hair and light eyes.

Busboy was indeed sexy and also charming in an innocent way. I’ve been trying to hold off doing the younger guy thing until my mid-30’s at my sexual peak, but that’s too far away. That’s also assuming I won’t be married or in a serious relationship. It’s easy to believe this because I’m not physically attracted to many men and haven’t even had a vague interest in anyone lately.

But I have been attracted to most of the younger men that have been hitting on me. I’m making a concerted effort to get over the icky feeling I get whenever I think of dating someone even my own age. I’ve always dated men seven to ten years older than I am. Perhaps it’s time to change that dynamic. Younger men have less baggage among other perks—that
sounds refreshing.