A friend sought no dating advice whatsoever. I nonetheless shared valuable tips about finding dates at the Wings Over the Rockies Air & Space Museum.
A friend of mine is convinced she’ll never date again. She’s too old. No man could possibly be interested in her. It’s true—just ask her.
She’s got a point. I mean, she’s got curly dark red hair and sky blue eyes and the happiest laugh you ever heard. She’s athletic and thin. She’s a fiction writer and loves travel and all things cultural. And she has a sick sense of humor and curses loudly like a sailor, oftentimes while we’re grabbing a cup of coffee at Tattered Cover bookstore. We’re usually sitting in the Religion and Spirituality section, and to my estimation about 4,917 Deepak Chopra enthusiasts have received an unexpected auditory treat over the years, courtesy of my friend.
Really, what man would want any of that?
Being an expert on all topics including dating, I recently offered my friend some advice. Not that she asked. Believe me, she did not ask.
C: You like the opera. Meet men there!
Friend: Great idea. I’ll drive to Central City and see the opera. There’s probably loads of eligible bachelors hanging around, champagne in hand, hoping to meet women.
She had a point. So I chatted with another friend who told me her mother has had no small success finding dates while volunteering at the Wings Over the Rockies Museum.
Armed with this new information, I shared some more unsolicited dating advice with my friend at Tattered Cover yesterday.
C: You should volunteer at the Wings Over the Rockies Museum. You’ll meet men there!
[My friend curses, leaps from her chair, and walks rapidly toward the building exit. I increase my speed to a jog to keep up with her.]
C: I’m still here.
Friend: Oh good.
C: You’ll meet men there.
Friend: I don’t even know what the Wings Over the Rockies Museum is.
C: Probably has to do with birds. Or planes. Or maybe spaceships.
Friend: I don’t even like birds or airplanes.
C: It hear you.
Friend: Though I do kind of like spaceships.
C: It doesn’t matter. Well, it kind of matters, what with the aliens onboard and the possibility of a hostile invasion.
[My friend picks up her speed, and I break into a sprint to keep pace.]
C: I’m still behind you.
[My friend sighs and slows down.]
Friend: Where’s this museum even located?
C: Probably in Colorado. Or maybe Utah or Montana. Or British Columbia. Definitely somewhere in the Rocky Mountain Region. Or possibly Quebec. But you’re not listening to me. It doesn’t matter. You should volunteer there!
Friend: Stop talking.
