40-Year-Old Virgin? Hardly.
I'm calling it a severe case of mistaken identity.
Otherwise, I may never leave the house again.
On Saturday evening, my wife and I made dinner plans at the new Ruby T restaurant in downtown Maryville, Tenn., with some good friends of ours.
(If you haven't heard of Ruby T, it's operated by the folks who own the Ruby Tuesday chain, and it's located down the street from the company's headquarters. Great atmosphere and food!)
I go inside, and the hostess promptly seats me at a table for four. We're a bit early, so my wife stays outside, sending birthday greetings to her dad via cell phone. Our friends are on their way.
I read through the menu two or three times to pass the time, then I notice a pretty blonde teen-aged girl giving me the once-over as she pulls out a tube of lip gloss for an after-dinner touch-up.
She's at a booth about 10 feet away with two women (probably my age) and what looks to be two younger brothers.
"That guy's been sitting at a table all by himself for at least 10 minutes," she says, not thinking I can hear.
Her comment prompts the two women to turn around and look directly at me. I glance away.
Then came the kicker.
"He looks like that '40-year-old virgin' guy from the movie!" she adds.
I fell asleep when my wife rented the movie, but I stayed awake long enough to know that I don't look like the main character. Or at least I thought 'til now.
My ego sufficiently wounded, I got up and walked past the teen's table in search of my wife and our friends. After all, there's safety in numbers.
40-year-old virgin?
At least she's half right.
I am 40.
Otherwise, I may never leave the house again.
On Saturday evening, my wife and I made dinner plans at the new Ruby T restaurant in downtown Maryville, Tenn., with some good friends of ours.
(If you haven't heard of Ruby T, it's operated by the folks who own the Ruby Tuesday chain, and it's located down the street from the company's headquarters. Great atmosphere and food!)
I go inside, and the hostess promptly seats me at a table for four. We're a bit early, so my wife stays outside, sending birthday greetings to her dad via cell phone. Our friends are on their way.
I read through the menu two or three times to pass the time, then I notice a pretty blonde teen-aged girl giving me the once-over as she pulls out a tube of lip gloss for an after-dinner touch-up.
She's at a booth about 10 feet away with two women (probably my age) and what looks to be two younger brothers.
"That guy's been sitting at a table all by himself for at least 10 minutes," she says, not thinking I can hear.
Her comment prompts the two women to turn around and look directly at me. I glance away.
Then came the kicker.
"He looks like that '40-year-old virgin' guy from the movie!" she adds.
I fell asleep when my wife rented the movie, but I stayed awake long enough to know that I don't look like the main character. Or at least I thought 'til now.
My ego sufficiently wounded, I got up and walked past the teen's table in search of my wife and our friends. After all, there's safety in numbers.
40-year-old virgin?
At least she's half right.
I am 40.
posted by Darrin Devault at 4:30 PM
3 comments
