He had met his share of Barbie dolls, Not-all-that’s, ravenous beauties with sky-high IQs – or not- who were just not that into him. He stopped keeping track.
He admits, he blew it a number of times. Early on, he was a little bit snarky, picky and delusional. At 60 (the new 50) he considered himself “a real catch.” His sisters, his daughter, and Mrs. Populaces, his 84-year-old neighbor, all told him so. And he drank the Kool-Aid.
He went through women with a cavalier, “I can do better.” For the first few years, his mantra was, “Next!”
And then he met Candice (45-ish, CEO, divorced twice, no kids, once a competitive skier.) She had a high-powered job and drove a shiny, new Tesla. Her home in Sleepy Hollow had been featured in both Sunset and Dwell magazines.
She was very attractive, dressed impeccably and had a second house in Vail. Her calendar was busy. Initially, she made time for Randall. He fell hard and fast. She was entertained and mildly impressed.
He was good-looking, dressed well, had excellent manners, and was a terrific dancer. He quoted the New York Times, a lot. In time, she thought he was shallow and very vain. He rarely asked her a question. He reminded her of those smarmy prep school boys. She thought, any man on the West Coast who was over 50 and who asked, “Where did you prep?” was terribly insecure.
You’re so Vain
Wanting to appear magnanimous, Randall warned her that his family came first – he thought certainly she would be impressed by this allegiance to hearth and home. Next, with bravado, he mentioned there was a grandchild due. In her mind, that made him just another distraction with less availability.
The Right Thing To Do
So, Candice let Randall go.
And it took ol Randy boy a long time to realize the folly of his ways.