A few days ago I wore a white skort with a swoosh like this to WalMart to buy a birthday card. I own several similar skorts and have no clue whether it's vogue to wear them off the tennis court. The truth is, I have a checkered past with skorts. I love their femininity and ease, but they create drama I don't need.

Skorts make me stupid, get me snubbed, and are magnets for geriatric gigolos. Wait, what? Hold that thought.

I've never shared this before. I have genuine skort issues. I wore a fancy one to the University counseling center where I met with my very first client for my first ever session as a 22-year old therapist in grad school. I was extremely nervous. As soon as my client sat down, she complimented I LOVE YOUR SKIRT! I should have said thanks or silently struck a Columbo pose. Who the heck cares about the built-in shorts??? But I regretfully replied OH, IT'S A SKORT! I'M SO DECEITFUL, AREN'T I? HAHAHAHA{unending SCARY laughter}!!!

In the history of psychotherapy, no counselor in training has ever uttered a response so neurotically lame. I should know. I was required to review the videotape of that session with my supervisor (her brows furrowed...who let this freak into our program!?!). Trust. Skorts are the very worst thing to wear to therapy.


Fast forward to WalMart the other day.


There I was in the kicky deceitful skirt with the sleeveless white Nike dri-fit top, running shoes, a mom ponytail and most likely, Covergirl lipstain schmears to my 44-year old front teeth. That's when the sharp dressed fellow hit on me amid the Hallmark (this is the part where my ego would prefer to embellish: the man possessed a certain je ne sais quoi and brought to mind a mature Robert Pattinson...).

Only he did not.

My admirer was closer to Edward Cullen's human age. No capiche? Well, the dude at WalMart approached me with a nonagenarian swagger (um, yeah, I had to look up the term for folks who have blown out more than 89 birthday candles).

The guy was ancient and adorable and said I'M NOT TRYING TO HIT ON YOU, BUT THAT IS THE CUTEST OUTFIT I HAVE SEEN IN SOME TIME. I thanked him. NO NO NO. REALLY. CHAAAAAARRRRRMMMMMINGGGGG! He kept gushing. ARE YOUUUUUUU...HAPPILY MARRIED? I nodded. He continued. BECAUSE I MEAN...CHARMING.

Later he coincidentally (?) bumped into/stalked me near the store's exit.

It was a THAT just happened skort moment that would be totally creepy were it not for the fact I was wearing a most non-hoochie-riffic ensemble and playa was way way older than dirt and pathetic as it may be, I REALLY needed the smile.

A little later it hit me that WOW I MUST BE LOOKIN OLLLLD SINCE SUDDENLY MEN OVER 80 THINK THEY HAVE A SHOT...

And the epipahny both terrified and relieved the happily married no longer naive or practicing psychotherapy lover of skorts.