Old Maid

I went on a date last night. It was a guy I met last weekend at a bar. He seemed quite nice, but I wasn't sure if it was a romance date or a work thing as he is a journalist. (Well he writes for a sort UK version of the Enquirer, which I do not count as journalism, in fact I think it's quite revolting, but hey, a date is a date and I haven't had one for a while!) Anyway, we got round to coming out stories and I was explaining how I came out to my parents when I was 30 and I could see by his expression I had said something surprising. He asked me how long ago that was and I realised that perhaps in the dim light of the bar I had appeared slightly younger than I was. I explained it was 6 years ago and he did one of those cartoonish eye popping gulps, "You mean you are 36? Really?"
"Erm, yes. How old did you think I was?"
"Oh, I had you as about 28"
Part of me was triumphant, part of me crestfallen. I had to ask, "How old are you then?"
"Guess!"
Anyone that says "Guess" when asked there age is obviously very young or very proud of the work they've had done. I looked hard and realised there had been no work, that wrinkle free skin had not been peeled or pulled. "You about 23 aren't you?"
"Oh, you guessed!"
"OK, now that we know how old we both are, do you mind if I ask if this was a work date or a romance date?"
"I thought it was a romance date."
"And now you know I am ancient, is it still a romance thing?"
He smiled and said he hoped so. We kissed a bit and I ignored the voices in my head that said, "Nooooo, noooo, nooo!"
He's gone off to dig up the dirt on some footballer's wife for a few days and so I can sit and stew about if I should take this further. I never expected to become a daddy figure, but I guess it was inevitable.