On Friday night, I stopped by a bar in Long Island where my friend's band was playing. I wasn't feeling particularly great about being in public just because I was tired and thought it was noticeable. Who wants to socialize with some tired girl? Once I found my friends in the audience, I woke up a bit. In fact, I actually had a Bass and a Lemon Drop, wo! We watched the Mets get slaughtered on tv, chatted, listened as singer/songwriter, Glenn Geiger and crew, rocked the melodies. Anyway, it was almost time for me to leave when some dudes walked in the bar and came straight toward our group. One of them immediately started asking me questions. What's your name? Do you live around here? Would you like a drink? It was all very smooth and I just smiled demurely. There might of been a little eyelash batting action, but it certainly wasn't a typical reaction from me when approached. Then he asked for my number. I avoided the question. Once I realized that was just silly I said, "I'm much older than you." He's 23, by the way. "No you're not" and "Age is just a state of mind" were his responses. So I said, "Listen, I'm 35." Not even a flinch. He countered that with a, " my last girlfriend was 37." Now, the boy lives out east, works as an electrician, talked like a player, most likely is a player, but the fact that he was unphased, um and easy on the eyes, was refreshing. He asked for my number again. I said, "How about you give me yours?" After some more attempts, he finally caved. He wrote down his number on a napkin and made me promise to call. I did and even said I was too old not to keep my word. Yikes, dumb move. Now it's Sunday. I'm still tired. I have the wrinkled napkin resting on my coffee table. What to do, what to do. Mind you, I have no interest in dating a 23 year old, but I promised one phone call and can't stand when boys flake on girls. It's just so immature. So I ask you, my blogger friends, do I call or just let it lie?