Imported Poems

I shant bore you with the minute details of my daily nocturnal saga I call "2nd shift stock"; however, I will say we've had between three and five working per night, and our overstock is so massive (and financial ruinous) that our stock room now includes the back parking lot.
I was winded putting boxes up last night, which concerned me, but only a little bit. Life and death are about equal these days.
We have a young, cute guy working there on the weekends now. He flirts with me sometimes, so last night we were talking and (during a question of age) he asks me how old I am. I tell him 37. He stares at me in disbelief, then reasks my age. He once more stares at me, then announces his mother is 37. She had him when she was 17 and he is 20 years old. All of a sudden I feel like a dirty old woman, but he's keener than ever on me. He proceeds to act like a little boy at Christmas time, so much so someone had to tell him to calm down.
I tell myself I should be flattered that a 20 year old is crushing on me. Although I'm almost 40, I'm still pulling young guys, so I must not be as heinously ugly as I think I am. I tell myself "be delighted" but I feel no delight because if it isn't *HIM*, then it doesn't matter. Compared to him every man fails in one way or another - I continuously find fault: "Oh he's young and beautiful, but stupid and immature"; "Oh, he's brilliant but too nerdy"; "Oh, he's young, beautiful and smart but entirely vain"; "oh, he's attractive, spiritual and intelligent but totally lacking in creativity". The problem is, HE is everything I want and all of his vices and frailties endear him and engender this desire to take care of him for life. I love it when he pouts, or is righteously indignant, or when his vanity needs polishing.
How can any man possibly compete? Poor souls, they have no hope (and I give them none; I am not like other women in that respect. My body language says "Shut") and I have none myself, save this flickering sense of idealism that knows both he and I are high romantics, and all good romance stories have separations, but in the end, the hero and heroine are inevitably drawn back to each other.
I would not be surprised if, on a subconscious level, he's playing out the part so familiar to him that it is now emeshed with his personality.