I think I should change my name to Mrs. Robinson. Lately I've been having a hard time judging people's (guys) ages when I talk to them at the bars. First there was the pigroast of a couple weeks ago. There was a very attractive single young man at the party and we were having a pretty good conversation and he mentions that he's in school. First warning flag, but I'm hoping he means he's in grad school. Nope. he just turned 22. He finds out I'm 28, and suddenly he had to go. Then last weekend, in Binghamton, we were at the bar dancing and there were a few good looking guys dancing. 24, 23 and the last one was 21. They were lots of fun. Their age is really not that big of a deal, it's just something I've noticed lately. Good times.