The Grown Up Baby Boy

Never judge a book by it's cover.

Everything that glitters aint gold and everything shining aint a diamond...You see where I'm going with this right?

He worked in corporate America. Not just corporate America...but a Fortune 500 company, corner office, hell I was intimidated and that's pretty hard to do.

The first thing I ask myself when I meet men that are older, single, no children is why are they single? I mean, they may ask the same thing about me, but my reasoning is legit. There's....usually isn't.

There are usually a list of questions that most people ask right off the bat when they meet someone...Age? Location? What do you do? Children? Living situation? Something along those lines. I never like to judge right away, so I usually cover the age and what do you do section and let the chips fall where they may. Not a good idea.

Let's just skip over all the small talk, the first lunch date, you know blah, blah, blah.

Fast forward to the day he invited me to his office.

Nice. Fun guy, business orientated. I ask him his five year plan. I like.

There was a piece of the five year old plan that had my ears perk up..."I plan on finally leaving where I live and buying something in battery park..." I was stuck on this sentence. I had got wedged in between "finally leaving" and "where I live."

I know, you're thinking what I'm thinking....is he married and still lives with his wife? Does he have a roommate? And why is it finally? Like, have you been dying to leave there but haven't yet. I'm so confused. Before I could get nosy...he suggests that I come out to house for dinner. Ahhh, okay, a chance for me to be nosy.

So it's a nice summer night, you know how I feel about summer nights.

We're driving...we get to Long Island, we get to this beautiful house. No, I mean beautiful house. I'm from the suburbs, where there are vintage mansions, as a matter of fact a friend of mine had a ceiling so tall you could fit another house in the living room. His is nice.

Now I'm thinking to myself why are we entering in through the back door. You know the one next to the garage that leads to the kitchen...and yup...you guessed it. The basement.

Dude. You like a hunnid and two....you live in the basement?

Let's hear this story...

"You know, this is my house, you know, my mom's just live with me."

I don't even want to hear anymore. I'm not judging. Really. Honestly, if I were in my hometown, I'd seriously live with my parents still. No lie. But um, at his age, his stage of his career...you really live in the basement? To date or not to date?

347.