Shoo!

"Go play with someone your own age," I told him when he flirted heavily with me again at work.

He's 22. He has bedroom eyes, a bad-boy personna and he can make me blush faster than anyone I know. If he were 8 years older I'd have an eye on this one.

"I like older women," he told me.

I shot him a middle finger.

Later when I was lugging empty boxes out of the restaurant he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm moving this weekend," I reminded him.

"Ooooh, right. Right by me, aren't you?"

He's right. He'll be around the corner from me. His parents own a small mansion in a community next to mine.

"Maybe I'll come by sometime?" he said.

"Sure, my daughter has PlayStation," I shot back as I left.

Twenty-two. I know there are those who think a 'boy toy' is just what I need, but I can't be that person. I'm not interested in casual sex, I'm not interested in someone so much younger and I'm not going to play with this co-worker because that never ends well. A boy who still turns pale at the idea of children - while I am a single mom. A boy who still lives with his parents. A boy.

It's a shame because he's really yummy, but I'm going to pass.

I'm exhausted now. I went to the Weston house to pack my kitchen last night after work. Jeff wasn't there. I packed several boxes before I noticed I was practically asleep on my feet, so I headed back home and crashed. I have to do it again tonight.

I really hope this move happens. Money is SO tight.

I keep wondering - will I be happier when I move? What if I get there and I am still so miserable? What then?