DOMS
Since I’ve been inundated with them of late, and seeing as we’re already on the subject of age, I thought I would dedicate a post to DOMS (dirty old men). Don’t ask me what the S stands for, it just sounds better with it there. We’ll talk about Young’uns (boys who are old before they’re young) too. Might as well, there’s always 2 sides to every coin. No discrimination here, all age inappropriate men will receive their appropriate discussion time.
Sure am glad that last post is over though! Now I can move on to other people’s issues and problems, which are always so much easier to talk about than your own, right? ;0) Much more enjoyable too.
So we’ll start with DOMS and then move on to the young ones. Try this counterclockwise and see what happens.
DOMS are in a class all their own. A special breed. They’re a disgrace to their age group (which I would put loosely at 50 plus?) DOMS are the older men who are actively hitting on girls half their age with distasteful words, actions and looks. It’s usually more of what they don’t say then what they do with a DOM.
They consider any girl to be fair game. There’s a distinct noticeable difference between a DOM and a friendly older man who just happens to be older than you too. DOMS want to be friends with benefits. They’re the type who would cop a feel if they could, and copping has never been the stand up thing to do. There’s always an element of sneakiness in a DOM’s behavior. Give him an inch and he’ll take a yard.
They’re pretty easy to spot too. You can find them anywhere, although work seems to be the most prevalent place by far. The scary part about DOMS in workdom is that DOM behavior appears to be contagious and to rub off on any nearby peers. So if a ‘bad seed’ is introduced into the mix at your job, forget about it. It’s only a matter of time before the office becomes a breeding ground where future DOMS congregate to receive their in-house training. A DOM farm. Before you know it, the sleaziness is running rampant and becomes ingrained into the corporate culture.
It happened at my last job. The office became DOM central, and no one was safe as the DOMs and pre-DOMS were multiplying and hitting on every girl in a 5 mile radius. The sitch got pretty bad actually. Collectively, they became quite the nuisance. Even got to the point where us girls started having DOM rants where we would fantasize about them all being premanently relocated to a DOM ranch.
Or, even better, to a DOM island, like 30Rock’s MILF Island where Debra lost to Deborah when the 8th grade boys decided they “no longer wanted to hit that.” The Island of DOM would be a perfectly acceptable place for them, where they could be dumped off so we wouldn’t have to deal with the harassment. Women who were in need of a little extra attention for whatever reason could even take retreats there to get their grooves back and then be on their merry ways.
George Dub could live there too. He could even be president of the DOM Nation, even though he doesn’t seem much of a DOM. He is age inappropriate, just in a totally different way. Kinda more juvenile than dirty. More of a JOM. The presidential role would be one he’s used to though. Round two of being in a position he has no business being in and representing people he can’t relate to nor understand.
He could even communicate through the Internets to the rest of the free world in between golf games. Even though he’d sworn off golf until each and every DOM was cured. That’s beside the point. “So, gas is still goin up, huh? Hehehe. Well, don’t look at me! That Great Repression y’all are in has nuthin ta do with me.”
One guy at my old work was so bad he put the dirty in ‘Dirty Old Man’. A recent divorcee who brought new meaning to the term DOM. You could almost see the porno replaying itself in his mind as he talked to you. A true DOM to the core. We would all commiserate if an unlucky girl had the unfortunate experience of being within 10 feet of him.
He would sneak up on you, “dom da dom dom dommmmmmmmm!”, and use his uncanny ability to infuse a sexual element into the most seemingly innocent of comments. “So, how was your weekend?” became just as nasty as the most offensive thing a regular strip club connoisseur could possibly say as he put his money in a g-string. This DOM epitome would hold the elevator door open and say, “After you”, all the while undressing you with his eyes. Ugh, I can’t even think about him without shuddering.
I had to start a file on him when he started coming up behind my chair and trying to rub my back . Best believe I started that ‘Ultimate DOM’ file and documented Backrub Incident #1, transpiring on Feb 26 at 9:47 a.m. ‘Cause you just never know, ya know? I would always want to smack his hand off me, but by the time I realized what was going on it was always too late. And there’s only so much you can do with a back arch.
I would give him the dirtiest looks possible, (not his kind of dirty though), but he would either feign ignorance or just didn’t get it. I really wanted to say something, but was counseled against it since it would have been career suicide and I had a pretty sweet deal going on. Wasn’t worth it.
I’m making light of it, but it was pretty scary actually. And gross. I always felt unclean after an incident, like I needed to take a shower. The worst was when I accidentally spilled water on myself at lunch and my friend said, “It’s a wet t-shirt contest!” and he bounded over from across the room with, “Did I just hear the three magic words?” Yuck. You’re old enough to be my father! (You could actually even be my father, my dad situation being the way it is.) So watch out Pops.
However, aside from him, (whom I just can’t pardon), I’m actually starting to have a newfound sympathy for DOMS, especially in light of my last post. DOMS are people too! I’ve been thinking I should cut them a little slack now that I can semi-relate to their point of view. Sometimes I have DOW thoughts myself these days. Okay, not exactly ready to put the ‘old’ part in there just yet, but I do sometimes have DW thoughts. (That’s weird, those initials look really familiar to me for some reason ;0)
I know it sounds terrible, but the young ones look good, I can’t lie. What can you do. It’s really sucks when you come across a cute one who’s just so young it could never happen in real life because it would be ridiculous. It feels mean, almost like teasing a dog with food. “Here you go, here, want some delicious chicken, cmonnn. Nope, just kidding. None for you.”
When there’s a hot Israeli six-foot-six 18 year old that used to be your foreign exchange student constantly instant messaging and no one your own age in sight, it can be hard to resist. But you’ve just got to keep your Malena-ish thoughts to yourself, you’ve got to. Ain’t nothin to it but ta do it. Who knows, maybe everybody becomes a DOW or a DOM as they get older, it’s just that most stay undercover while others air their dirty laundry for the world to see, dirty being the keyword here.
The ‘out in public I don’t care who sees me gawking’ DOMS all seem to possess certain characteristics though. Perhaps they’ve always been dirty and have been exhibiting DOM-ish behavior their whole lives, but it just always got attributed to puberty and them being early starters. Fast little boys who were on the fast track to grownupdom and knew what was what way before their time.
Maybe I should have realized I was witnessing Junior DOMs in the making and tried to do something about it when I had the chance. Nipped that too-flagrant and too-overt appreciation for the opposite sex in the bud during their formative years. There were instances I could have done something, like when a student in my 6th grade Spanish class during my substitute teacher days yelled, “Miss Amour, can I get the digits?” from the back of the class. Or when the kid I tutored after school couldn’t keep his eyes off my ‘pecho’. Maybe I should have put my finger under his chin and lifted it. “Aqui con los ojos DooSoo, aqui.”
It might not even be too late now. Instead of complaining about DOMS, my time could prolly be better spent looking for 3rd parties to be the voice of reason and explain to them that their behavior’s not cool. Maybe that’s all that’s about. The existing DOMS just need to go through trainings.
They should be carefully extracted out of the general population though so as not to offend the ’seasoned’ older men who are by no means DOMS. Because done the right way, a little salt n’ pepper can make something that much more delicious. Those ‘oldies but goodies’ don’t need to change a thing. They have sexiness on lock. They just don’t make them like they used to!
Good older men are so experienced too. They know exactly what to do in any given situation. You can just say, “Why don’t you just tell me what to do…” (Like Kramer in Seinfeld where his phone somehow got mixed up with MovieFone. “Why don’t you just tell me the name of the movie you want to see.”) They’re Sean Connery without his sexist side. George Clooney anybody?
Unfortunately in my limited experience though, dating an older man always ends up getting old eventually (no pun intended. Okay, maybe I did intend it. Little bit, little bit.) He’ll do something unintentional like order red wine while wearing a crewneck sweater and I’ll just lose that lovin feeling.
Or he’ll try a passé move that may have been popular back in his day but now it’s a new dawn and a new day. And I’m feeeelin’ good. But not feelin him, so he’ll inevitably ends up in my past. Or just in my blog. Or just on your computer. Same diff. What’s mine is yours after all.
I’m trying not to get carried away with the whole age thing anyway. It might just be completely irrelevant. Because 35 can look very different on two different guys. Even 25 can.
Last year I met this guy I really liked who I pegged as at least 30, but lo and behold ole boy was a paltry 23. Really had me fooled me with that facial hair and war torn face. It was pretty unbelievable. There was way too much beer in that belly too, so much so that I had to demand 23’s ID as proof. But 23 he was. And I was 32, 9 years older. If I could have just flipped his numbers around we could have been perfect. Why oh why did my soul mate have to be in the body of a 23 year-old child? But he was.
Age can look really different on the inside too. I’ve gone out with men in their 30’s who seem like they’ve only recently been weaned from their Capri Sun juice boxes and met 23 year-old ’soul mates’ who are already taken and it’s too late so we just have to look at each other longingly and look for each other next lifetime.
I’ve gone out with a divorced late 30’s Greek guy who tongued my face down afterward, which you’d kinda think his ex-wife would have told him wasn’t right. She really should have taken him to school. She had a responsibility to the sisterhood and she failed. I literally had to wipe my face off with my hand afterward. How is that fun.
Besides, regardless of which end of the spectrum you’re dealing with, there are always pluses and minuses anyway. Every rose has its thorn. So my new plan is to just go with my gut and make determinations on an individual basis. After all that, that’s my new plan. ;0)
I’m working on not getting so caught up in the trees that I can’t see the forest. Because the big picture is what counts, not being nitpicky over an inconsequential DOB. Just because a tree has a couple more rings around it than the next doesn’t really mean a thing. I should be looking closely at the seeds it’s sown for itself and what it’s made of its surroundings and happenstance. Checking to see how its weathered the storms it’s come across and making sure it provides the necessary shade on a sunny day.
And even when all its leaves fall off in the winter, does it still have hope and faith that the sun will shine again and it will flourish once more? Because that’s what should count in the long run. Attitude is everything. And impossible is nothing.
My tree:
