Guests of Dishonor

I must admit I was intrigued by the two brothers who recently placed an ad on Craig's List looking for dates to bring to a cousin's wedding. Their honesty was refreshing (yes, their cousin, the bride, was correct in assuming they would harass other guys' dates if they weren't occupied by their own), and they seemed to have at least some scruples (a fifty-three year old woman was disqualified only because she had an ailing husband, and these guys had no intention of wrecking any homes). Scruples aside, I was kind of encouraged by the idea that a fifty-three year old woman could otherwise be a contender.

When I realized they have every intention of turning this clever little episode into a romantic comedy I was no longer merely intrigued; I was downright horny. Talk about a match made in heaven. Two nice looking -- and seemingly well-heeled -- young men and, well, me. I have all the assets they're looking for: I'm female, I have a daughter about their age (they need a pair of dates; a singlet won't do), I have no ailing husband at home, and odds are my schedule is open that weekend. Best of all, they have a plot without a screenplay, and I have a screenplay without a plot. Okay, I don't have the screenplay yet, but I have a laptop, so no problem. I can't help but feel as if I'm on the verge of winning the lottery.

The pressure is on. The guys have already gotten a lot of hits (they are hard to resist once you see the picture of them in the Christmas sweaters) and they claim they want to select the winners by the end of the week. I'm going to have to be fairly clever to compete with all the young hotties who have responded, like the two who submitted a power point presentation; the wedding is this spring and there's no way I'll be able to figure out power point by then. Pictures of me in sexy lingerie probably won't get me to the top of the pile (unless both brothers happen to suffer from premature sight loss), nor will a reprint of my phone sex blog which outs me as a flannel-pajama-wearing- crossword-puzzle-obsessed loser masquerading as a cougar who actually finds it scintillating to listen to a guy taking care of business while he drools into his cell phone. I think I have to play up the mother/daughter angle (beats the crap out of the tired old "twins" fantasy) and, more importantly, the screenplay. At the end of the day, money talks. The prospect of a lucrative movie deal is going to speak much louder than faux phone sex.

It's a work in progress, but here's what I have so far:

Hello Boys (should sound throaty, even though I don't smoke):

I may be fifty-three, but I got assets and I got skills. My assets? Other than a twenty-seven year old complete set of never used Wedgewood china and a house with more shingles in the yard than on the roof, my ace in the hole is a beautiful and brilliant daughter about your age. And, while most of my friends have already come out on the other side of menopause, I have yet to experience even so much as a lukewarm flash, which gives me the somewhat unique and dubious distinction of being able to get pregnant with my own grandchildren. My skills? Man, do I have skills. (???? Work on this part.)

How does a fifty-three year old woman who can barely remember what she had for breakfast that morning describe her skills, present herself in the most positive light? I have to admit this is a bit of a stumper. I wonder if the guys would be impressed by my double jointed thumbs, or perhaps my expertise in parallel parking. Maybe I'll just take pictures of all my diplomas, let the guys make false assumptions about all the things I can do. Those expensive pieces of paper have gotten me through doors before, and there's no reason to think they can't get me an invite to some silly wedding reception. Not so silly actually; the wedding could finally be the big payoff for all that parchment.

Maybe I should just forget about the diplomas and submit a copy of my yoga teaching certificate. A highly educated cougar might be a little bit sexy, but a cougar who can do a full back bend, well that's an entirely different animal. Toss in some downward facing dogs and an occasional handstand and I'm thinking these guys will be tripping over themselves and each other to parade me around at a big family shindig. Yes, the more I think about it, the yoga angle is the way to go. When these guys realize that I will truly bend over backwards to accompany them to their cousin's wedding, they will be unable to resist.

All I need to do now is convince my daughter to partner up with me on this one. I'll offer to let her pick which brother she wants, even if she sticks me with the older one. When all is said and done, I write a kick-ass screenplay, get a huge movie deal, amass a great fortune, and she doesn't have to worry about supporting me down the road. How can she possibly say no?