A line has been officially crossed! FWB met Psychic tonight!!! It all happened so fast. The plan was he was going to cook me a steak dinner and I was going to get a little somethin’ somethin’ but then Psychic called and she was just down the street and I had to see her.. I was going through Superfriends withdrawal. Besides she kept teasing me that I was probably running around with young guys, which made me want to show her that, no, actually, it was just one guy and while he is younger than me, he doesn’t fall into the “young guy” age range to which she was referring. But why would I want her to meet a “Friend With Benefits?”

It happened last night. We went to see a Beatles cover band with his mom. She wanted us to be her “wingmen” and I am a fantastic wingman, so I said, what the heck.  The first hour and a half was a little creepy. Did I mention the band was at their country club? I was surrounded by a room full of “Thurston Howell III and Lovies.” FWB and I were the youngest people in there by 25 years.. at least! The bouffants on these women were outdated– I mean outrageous. I have no idea where they find a stylist who still knows how to create those large masterpieces. And the jewelry! I seriously started having Bonnie and Clyde fantasies, 1. because these people were ripe for the robbing 2. because they were too old to fight back 3. Because I think FWB and I would be sexy as hell if we were criminals and people across America would be helping us make our escape to Canada (I’m not going to Mexico and I have 2 Superfriends in Canada… one of them is a brilliant artist who can help us change our identities by covering us in beautifully colored feathers).. anyway, enough about my fantasy as a criminal.

Guess what wasn’t in MY benefits package? Dancing! Now all my girls know I love to dance, and I’m dangerous on the dance floor… so it was probably good that he wasn’t going to dance with me. He claimed it was because he wasn’t a good dancer, but ladies we all know that if a guy is good in bed, he can dance. But I wasn’t going to argue. There was no need to… it’s not like I was ever going to be at family event like a weeding or anything which required dancing. So when he asked me to dance, I was a little confused. I went with it… and true to the rule.. he could dance!

At around ten pm the Howell crowd had stuffed their bags with the free hor deurves  and left and a new crowd of silver foxes had come in from a “wine dinner.” This was quite a crowd! All the women were over 60 yet, their bodies were fantastic, they all wore 4″ Jimmy Choos, they were hot! And they were all dancing and singing and pretty much reliving their youth. So, the band decided it was safe to go into the hallucinogenic drug phase. Everyone was acting like they were shrooming and FWB was sitting on chair watching me dance with his mom. When I spotted him sitting in the chair, and “Come Together” filled the air, my impulse kicked in and I did a dance for him that came very close to being  lap dance for all of 20 seconds when I realized what I was doing ( and it was NOT shrooming) and that I’d better get a grip because his mom was there! I mean she is cool but no one wants to watch their son get a lap dance, especially in front of a bunch of hoity toity country club folk.

Luckily the band changed to a slow dance and FWB got up and pulled me close. He held me so tightly and my head fit so perfectly between his neck and shoulder. This is that scene in the romantic comedy when the young girl starts realizing she’s falling for the young guy surrounded by a bunch of old people dancing to Beatles songs. And in typical romantic comedy style, just when I felt like Molly Ringwald in 16 Candles, in the arms of Jake, an old slick guy who looked like Kojak, decided to be a showoff with his dance moves and winded up taking a face dive into the wooden dance floor. There was forehead splitting and blood. Kind of a moment killer especially since most of his friends were so drunk that they were laughing instead of helping the guy out. I can jest about it now because after one of the leggy 60-year-olds in a slinky blue dress dabbed some water on him and stopped the blood, he was back on the dance floor getting his grove on. My moment was ruined… but it was still a moment. Which means….

Friends With Benefits is going to need a new name. I don’t know what to call him because I’m too freaked out about the whole thing. So I’m leaving it up to you, my loyal readers, give me a name… AND DON’T EVEN SUGGEST… boyfriend. We are NOT there yet! besides, it’s not very creative.

I await your comments…

©2011