Rog was an old friend of my hubby's. When Mark and I met, it was he and Rog who were both parusing the singles scene together. Naturally when Mark and I became established as a couple, their friendship drifted apart.
Rog was always a bit of a sleazy casanova type and quite frankly, I could never imagine a woman hooking up with him because of his seedy ways. 
I ran into Rog at the mall the other day. there he was, dressed to the nines in his crisp jeans and black western shirt, cowboy boots and gaudy bling belt buckle. He was in that old familiar pose with his one eyebrow raised, preparing to tip his cowboy hat to any young filly that would catch his eye. Yup, Rog was the cowboy equivilent to a lounge lizard. Halfway into his 60's, he still likens himself to Tim Magraw or Toby Keith. He's finally let his Elvis sideburns go white but still makes good use of his lifetime supply of Brylcreme.
Okay, okay, Rog was never my type but he was always polite to me and I hadn't actually seen him in years. I felt obliged to say hello and  catch up. As I approached and said hi, it occurred to me that he didn't have a clue who I was. He immediately swung into action presuming I was just another sweet thang who couldn't pass up his oozing charm. His arm went  around my waist as he addressed me as "babe". Then I had to break it to him. "you don't recognize me do you????"
"eeer no...have we met before honey?"
"Dyana...Mark's Dyana!?"
Well, you never saw so much fancy backtracking in your life. "Holy...you look hot!'
In its own bizarre way, I took the compliment and ran. Yes, its occurred to me that I likely look nothing like I did back then. I am wearing a size 11 jean versus a 26. My hair is red and longer. I wear glasses and makeup. Poor Rog... I could feel his disappointment when it occureed to him that I wasn't hitting on him. I love my RNY.