My life is going to hell in a hand basket.  I’m sure of this.

 I put an ad on craigs.  I got an email from a guy named John.  We email, then talk by phone.  He’s a good kid, although I don’t believe he knows who Jacquelyn Kennedy was.  Or is familiar with Jiffy Peanut Butter. 

 I still pine, in one way or another, for my faux b-friend, Gio.  Haven’t heard from him in ages, literally.  I haven’t the slightest idea why, since whenever we do manage to talk, nothing has changed.  No, really.  That’s how much of a sucker I tend to be.  His charm is never-ending.

 So this new kid and I decide to meet for a nature walk.  Innocent enough.  (Although on the phone, when I answer, he sounds exactly like Gio, the way he says my name...it makes me a bit dizzy.)  We have a lot to talk about since as a bohemian type of guy he’s lived abroad and feels much more comfortable there.  His roots are there.

 As we walk, suddenly he stops and I stop, too.  We continue talking.  He says, nonchalantly, “My real name is Giovanni.”  And I look into his eyes, without missing a beat and say, “Uh-huh.  It’s a good name, I think it fits.”  And then he adds, “I would call myself Gio, though.”

Having the face of an open book, I can’t say what my eyes express at that moment.  I can only say that at this point in time, I haven’t the slightest why this is happening to me.  Other than being decades younger than I am, he’s positively perfect.  It’s been awhile since I’ve had a guy and he’s a bit tempting...Not to change the subject, yet at least I’m not trying to resell my virginity for over three mil, like the now infamous Ms. Dylan.  But maybe it’s a good marketing tool for getting dates...

*  (I also want to thank sciencechick for writing about salon personals, that I didn’t know existed: thank you, girly chick.)