Intergenerational Double Dating

My husband and I recently went out to dinner with an ol’ Jewish writer friend a few seasons shy of 70 and his 30-something Asian partner. There is certainly nothing unusual about this relationship. After all, the trend of Jewish men dating younger Asian women has been trending since Woody Allen and his adopted daughter, Soon-Yi Previn. Issues arise, however, when you are called on to double date with this generational minefield. What do you all have in common? What on earth are you all going to talk about?

Surely, some sticky conversations are off-limits-don’t-go-there topics, and need to be scrapped from the menu before we even step into the restaurant. We don’t want either of them to feel as uncomfortable as we are on this date. We want our fellow geezer friend to “pass” as “yuccie” (young urban creative) — the person she thinks she’s dating. So we went to painstaking efforts to avoid trigger topics that might “out” him to his partner and reveal the ol’ geezer he really is.

After much deliberation, here is the list we came up with. These ten triggers informed our dinner date.

Note: To not give away our friend's name, I’ll endearingly call him Geezer. And to avoid naming his partner, I’ll refer to her fittingly as the lovely Soon-Yi.

1. Don’t mention friends who have died, fallen, or have life-threatening illnesses. We all remember our mother moaning the loss of another friend whenever we telephoned her. We don’t want to be like our mothers, do we? Hell no! So, don’t mention Kim or Gina’s passing. Or anybody’s demise, for that matter. (A dog is probably okay as it might invoke sympathy or some tear-jerky sentiment, which might benefit Geezer in showing his touchy-feely side. )

2. Don’t ever tell it like it is; employ metaphorical euphemisms. When Geezer inquires about Ron, who died last Thursday. Say that Ron finally bought the farm that he’s always dreamed about. When he presses where exactly because the enamored fool doesn’t realize the farm is a euphemism for a cemetery, simply reply: “You know, remember?” Uh oh. Geezer flinches. One of many throughout the night because remember implies that he forgot that Ron preferred art galleries and overpriced cafes as opposed to cornfields and general stores. Memory loss is not a good quality to share in front of the lovely Soon Yi.

3. Don’t mention anything medical-related. Even though you may want to because, ultimately, Geezer is your ol’ pal and you haven’t had a chance to catch up since the lovely Soon Yi appeared on the scene, don’t inquire about how he’s feeling after that recent coronary angioplasty; it was simply a minimally invasive stent procedure after all.

It’s definitely No to Harry’s colon cancer. No to Peggy’s Parkinson. No to any and all life-threatening diseases or any maladies associated with the aging process. And certainly don’t inquire about grieving spouses or whether or not Geezer reached out to them to offer consolation or help. He hasn’t. He’s been busy living the life with his perky arm candy and hasn’t had time. Plus, we all know multitasking becomes more complicated with age.

Certainly don’t ask him to return the Tupperware that cradled the macaroni and cheese, chicken enchiladas, and other dinners you made for him during his recovery period, even though you desperately want them back so that you can make dinners for Harry (the guy with colon cancer) and Betty, his wife with Alzheimer’s.

4. Don’t show your Age. There is nothing worse than age by association. If lovely Soon-Yi thinks we’re old, she can put two and two together, and voila! She’s dating her old man! She might well have some perverted psycho-sexual Electra Complex and maybe want to bang her dad (which is why she’s with him in the first place). If this is the case, I can serve a good purpose as the mother figure that she needs to take down in order to possess Geezer. However, if your disguise has worked, and she perceives you as a fellow yuccie, then hiding your age is imperative. Therefore, all signs of arm bandage and sun-spotted hands must be kept under taps, hidden beneath the table. If she sees that we’re old and we’re his good friends, well…. Not good. Age by association.

Qui cum canibus concumbunt cum pulicibus surgent. “He that lieth down with dogs shall rise up with fleas.” Means the same thing: He that hangs out with old people shall take up the undesirable characteristics of age.

Show no signs of aging. Don’t clue the lovely Soon-Yi that Geezer’s Groupon expires a few early bird specials down the road. By all means, don’t let your own fool husband pull out the Senior Saving card — a point of contention before the dinner. We’ll bite the extra few bucks. It’s the least we can do for our pal.

5. Don’t Panic when Geezer gets up to go to the bathroom and doesn’t return after several self-conscious minutes. Try to keep a straight face when you chit-chat with the lovely Soon Yi, especially when images of Geezer struggling to piss pop into your head. When she asks you about your work as a researcher, say something like “the struggle’s real” — a phrase you hear your 30-something daughters say pretty often.

When your cell phone rings, and it’s your granddaughter calling to Facetime, stay calm. Try not to answer even though you know precocious four-year-old Annabel won’t stop until you pick up the phone. (You should never have taught her how to use Siri.) When you are forced to answer because the lovely Soon Yi says you should answer it because it “might be important,” hide the disdain behind your recently whitened smile. She’s left you no choice. Go ahead, answer the phone and say: “Sorry, you must have the wrong number.” When Annabel screams, ”GRANDMA!” Shrug at the lovely Soon Yi. Admit nothing. Grandparents are old.

6. Don’t look at it. When Geezer finally returns to the table, and his zipper is only partially zipped, and there are a few noticeable spots on his modern corduroys, don’t look. Don’t do it. Maybe she won’t notice his crotch area is damp and slightly askew, so don’t draw attention to it. It — the flailing flute, the wobbly maypole — the elephant in the room. The it we can’t talk about–sex and his aging penis (crooked, I might add, according to his last age-appropriate partner). When the lovely Soon Yi arm adornment sees you giggling for no reason, have another sip of wine. She must have seen Willy Wonka and not think it is as funny as you do.

7. Don’t mention AARP or anything that whiffs of retirement and impending insignificance. When discussing your careers and your husband slips and mentions that you plan on retiring from teaching in June, foot punch him under the table to remind him that the topic was off-limits. Too late. The Chianti has spilled, splashing onto Geezer’s crisp pink Bonobos shirt and missing the lovely Soon Yi by a few inches. The attentive busboy notices the disaster, and quickly towel dries the tablecloth.

Topic averted. Or was it? From the look on Geezer’s face, maybe we’ve nailed “it” down. We’ve not only revealed one of us is declaring our impending irrelevance to the global economy but also shown how clumsiness goes hand in hand with cognitive changes in the aging brain. “Sorry.” You glare at your husband. There is nothing romantic about a retired, clumsy geezer. Unless the lovely Soon Yi is playing the Electra Card. Not completely ruled out here, by the way.

8. Don’t mention any activities or sports that have any connotative associations with aging. You search for an activity to discuss. You rack your brain. No bridge, Nordic walking, bird watching, swim aerobics, poll working, Bocce ball, Garden Club, or volunteer work at your local library or hospital. Golf? Maybe, but still an old man’s game with an average age of 54 because of the youngins who have started to play. Bless their Souls. And, when you were going to ask whether Soon Yi plays any sports, Geezer jumps in and asks how our tennis game is going. Apparently, he didn’t notice the compression brace curled around my tennis elbow — another sign of aging.

“Fine,” I say. Poor fool, I think. Have Geezer’s senses become as murky as the extra virgin olive oil on his appetizer plate? Is it that hard for him to focus and notice basic details?

“Do you play tennis?” I side-spin to his partner, interrupting her nibble of focaccia.

“No, I prefer yoga and pilates, non-competitive supports,” she replies. It’s easier on the body.”

Oh, but she’s young. WHAT IS SHE INSINUATING!?! My husband takes over, noting my annoyance at the otherwise lovely Soon Yi and her lithe wrinkle-free body.

“Well,” he says to both of them, “Jerry is looking for a double’s partner now that Peggy’s… you know…out.”

“Oh! What happened to Peggy?” Geezer stupidly asks now that he is dumbstruck by the ever-so-lovely Soon Yi.

Even hubby can’t take this charade anymore and levies a chilling glare in his direction. “She’s decided to shake things up a bit,” he says coolly, averting Peggy’s Parkinson’s diagnosis.

9. Don’t mention any films, literature, or TV shows before 1986 that haven’t been covered in a basic High School or College Curriculum. You are prepped for this one as you just read Vogue’s 31 “Books you Should Read by the time you’re 30.” Lucky for you, you’ve read them all. So you ask, “What books have you read lately?”

“We are Not Like Them, by Christian Pride.”

“Oh,” you say. You remember Mrs. Dalloway, Wuthering Heights, The House of Mirth, and other classics on the 2021 Vogue list, but not this one.

She notices your confusion and adds, “It’s a Good Morning America Book Club Pick.”

To lighten up another wise not-going-very-well-so-far evening, I change the subject and ask Geezer about the research for his latest project. He does like to talk about himself. So a few minutes, we all relax and have a real conversation (monologue, really), which allows us to eat our dinner. The lovely Soon Yi is caught up on this latest project and nods in admiration at her distinguished Sugar Daddy. She laughs when he jokes. Smiles when he glances over for her adoring approval. It’s all so sweet; I want to puke. I don’t have to. My husband covers his mouth with his napkin chucking up a mouthful of his veal parmigiana.

“For heaven’s sake,” I say.

10. Don’t let on how tired you are. It’s been a battle of the ages, and from the looks of the red-stained tablecloth and wrinkled napkins, it’s been a blood bath. Even last week’s Botox can’t stop the concern on your brow, the weary wrinkles under your eyes. We’re exhausted by all the pretense and can’t take another round, but, like the good soldiers we are, we soldier on chitting and chatting until the check arrives.

In our final gesture of loyalty to Geezer, we say: “Our treat. Such a pleasure to finally meet you. Let’s do it again sometime.”