The WHOA Moment
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Curves.
He really is very cute, this young blond man. He re- minds me of a couple of captains and lieutenants from my early career days. Piercing blue eyes and a lethal smile.
He wants to meet me for a drink sometime soon. He suggests a night before a particular day that just so hap- pens to be his birthday. I don’t have my calendar in front of me, so he tells me exactly when he was born—month, day, and year.
It’s a whoa moment. A real, you-better-sit-down- before-you-fall-down moment.
I remember what I was doing on the day he was born.
No, not starting first grade or being the flower girl in a cousin’s wedding. Nope. I was in college. Eighteen years old, finishing summer quarter and one course short of being a college junior, and hanging out with a bunch of my musician friends while moving into my new apartment and still upset with my mom for reading my mail because I was all grown-up.
Like I said, he really is very cute, but I’m not going to accept his offer. There’s just nothing we have in common.