You gotta love old men. For some reason (I have probably mentioned this before) old men like me a lot, and I have had repeated 'flirtatious' encounters with several of them. One guy (I don't even know his name) at our church has on occasion slipped me a Werther's mint, accompanied by a toothless grin. Another guy asked quite candidly who "that guy" was--the one who's always tagging along behind me. Dan? Yes, that would be the husband. Our janitor (toothless, potbellied AND mulleted) thinks I am the best thing since sliced bread, and often gives me hugs when I see him at church. The only time I have a small issue with those is when it is July and he is just wearing his wife-beater t-shirt. It's still sweet, though. I haven't figured out why I'm such a big hit with these guys--it may be my old man sense of humor (that isn't appreciated outside those circles), or that I laugh uproariously at their politically incorrect jokes. Maybe they can just sense that I like them right back--there is something about this particular demographic that I find incredibly appealing, and I think it is mostly due to the fact that they've long since given up trying to be someone else or to impress you. They could care less about having a trail of oatmeal hanging from the seat of their pants as they trudge through the church doors (my Grandpa), or that plaids and stripes are not normally worn together. At any rate, I find a certain kinship with these guys.

Now that I'm pregnant, the old men still seem to like me, but perhaps find kinship for another reason. Yesterday one of the thinner guys at our church oh-so-sensitively asked if I was still able to squeeze through the pews. There is also an ongoing competition at our church between me and a few older men in the congregation regarding who has the biggest pot belly. They are still beating me, and seem to be quite proud of this. I saw this comic today and thought of them.