Apparently, I have something in me that is so ultra attractive to the older folks out there that I should try to bottle and sell it. How do I know? Because I have an old man stalker.


Mr. Mothball (yep, he has mothball breath) waits for me at any and all public events that have anything to do with music and asks me to go on dates with him. Every event, even ones in neighboring towns. He even tried to go vote with me when I went to the polls for the primary election, but I got him to back off before I sat down at the makeshift booth (I think my party affiliation made him unhappy, though, and I thought that might deter him from having future contact with me, but no such luck).


Mr. Mothball, I am a married woman, and even if I wasn't, the fifty year difference in our ages would probably be a deterrent, even if your breath wasn't. I am not now, nor have I ever been, attracted to fanny packs, the smell of Ben-Gay, or ear hair.


Lots and lots of ear hair.


Did I mention the mothball breath?


I realize I should be flattered by this attention, but why couldn't it have been someone who isn't creepy? Or at least someone with better breath because, well, it's pretty gagtastic. I stand there, smiling and trying to be gracious, while holding back the urge to expel the contents of my stomach right into his face. Actually, maybe if I did throw up on him he'd stop....


It's an idea, at least.