Charming, but single

“Well, THAT was an experience,” the Older Woman said as she exited the stall in the subpar restroom facilities of the dive bar where I was Friday night. For some crazy reason, a singer of Rat Pack-style music that we adore plays his yearly Christmas show at this hole-in-the-wall joint. The show attracts an odd mix of revelers – groups of people in their mid 20s, couples in their thirties and forties and gray-haired folks who like to relive their past days by dancing circles around us young whippersnappers. “Yes, the restrooms leave something to be desired,” I said, as I ran my fingers through my hair. “Well, I guess I can’t complain. I’m 65. Back in the day we went into the mens’ room in bars because the line was shorter.” “I wouldn’t recommend that now. A lot of bars only have troughs,” I said, smiling. “Really!” “Yes.” “May I ask how old you are?” “Almost 27,” I said. I had moved from hair to lipstick. “Honey, I have two children, 32 and 19. I’ve lived all of the stages of your lives.” “It only gets better, right?” “Oh yeah, honey, it only gets better,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. She didn’t look many days over 50. She was wearing plum denim slacks and a tan jacket and her hair showed no gray. I straightened the straps of the camisole that peaked out from under my wrap-style top. “That’s a very nice shirt,” she said. “It looks pretty on you.” “Thank you,” I said as I continued my adjustments. “But the camisole doesn’t stay in place and then it dips down too low.” “Well, honey, that’s because oh … you know …” she trailed off as she motioned to her chest. “And as someone who never really had much in that department, I must say, they are nice,” she continued. I was floored. I managed to stammer a “thank you” before heading out of the door. I sat down at my table and turned to my friends. “A 65-year-old woman in the bathroom just told me I have a nice rack,” I announced to my friends, who were equally floored that a stranger would compliment my breasts in the womens’ restroom. “Did she use those exact words?” A friend’s husband asked. “Not those words exactly. But close enough.” I said. “On the bright side, at least if I got hit on by someone tonight.”