Not Quite Ashton and Demi

A 36, soon to be 37-year-old woman, me, was approached by two much-younger men on two separate occasions last week. The amorous solicitations appeared to signal an end to a long suffering dating drought but ended with not so much as a make out session.
The first hopeful, a strapping Scandinavian Ken doll look-alike named 'Lane,' approached the woman while she was walking a dog on West 93rd Street in Manhattan. The man, who had shoulder-length blond hair, azure eyes and a hot bod, inquired about the dog and moved quickly into the suggestion that they go for coffee. The woman then picked her jaw up off the cement and agreed.
At the Starbucks, the twosome enjoyed green teas over a refreshingly non-stilted conversation that was mostly dominated by the woman. (Still me.) She took notice that under the sunglasses a series of lines hinted at the beginnings of crow's feet, which made her feel better about the perceived age difference. On a number of occasions, the model-like Lane mentioned the phrase "next time we will have to..."
The woman said that she was busy for the next few days, but would call him if she would be attending the movies during that time. She telephoned two days later to inform the man that she would be going to a comedy movie, if he wanted to come along. He said he was booked up. The weekend passed with no follow-up call, as did the following three days. The woman's advisory committee officially declared the situation a 'blow off.' The woman did, however, come face to face with the young man later that week in a disasterous run-in where she was dressed as a mentally challenged individual: high waisted Chino shorts, white sneakers, and a McDonaland T-shirt featuring the Fry Guys and Hamburgler. Lane gave the woman a fake side hug and excused himself giving the excuse that he 'had a lot of work to do.'


"Who cares," the woman was overheard saying, "I don't need Lane and his prep school ass