Mind the Gap

I look a lot older than I am. I mean not terribly older, but people usually peg me to be in my mid to late twenties. Which has proved to be both a blessing and a curse. For example, I rarely get carded when I go out. On the flip side, I almost never get hit on by guys my age-- I get hit on by the older ones. There's nothing wrong with a guy who is eight or ten years older than me. Hell, I'm usually more attracted to them. The problem is when guys in their late thirties, early forties, or sometimes even fifties start hitting on me. There's this male idealized fantasy that the older they get, the younger they want their woman to be. So I've given it a shot with two guys who fall into that category. Both times it ended in disaster, not to mention my emotional scarring of seeing grey pubic hair. Gross.

I had a fling about a year ago with a guy in his mid forties. We worked together, and he was nice enough. I went through a pretty bad breakup around the time that I met him, and as much as sleeping with someone right after a breakup is never healthy, it was definitely a nice little ego boost for me. He was so into me. Like, partially in awe that he had landed someone so much younger, and partially falling in love with me. I suppose I did lead him on, and I do accept full responsibility for my part in this whole thing, but he just took it too far. To me, it was very clearly always just a fling. There was no way I was going to end up with the rebound guy, and there was also no way that I was going to end up with a guy double my age. I don't mean to sound like a bitch. He was really wonderful and exactly what I needed at the time. But there was always a sort of expiration date on us, and I thought that went unspoken. He was 43 years old. Why would I have to explain that to a guy who had already been through a marriage and countless relationships? Well, that's exactly why I should have. He was looking for the real thing. He wanted to settle down and have children and make a life with someone. I hadn't even finished college yet. We were at different stages of our lives, but we lost track of that during the time we were together. That's the problem with having a fling, particularly one with such an age gap. You're in a bubble. There's this nice little layer of thrill that's buffering you from the rest of the world. When that layer starts to erode and you melt back into the rest of society, your reality rarely meshes with the reality of the other aspects of your life. It ended pretty messily, and he's still got a bunch of issues "because of me" but it was a lesson learned for both parties.

The second time I ventured into the territory of Ye Old Men was actually quite recently. I met this guy at a bar, we hit it off, he bought me a few drinks... You know. The usual. He looked older, but I pegged him at around 31 or 32, which isn't much older than what I usually go for. He came home with me, we had a great night, and he didn't even stay over! It was perfect. Here's the thing about older men-- they know what they're doing. There's no fuss and no hassle, and they don't care if you've shaved your legs or if you haven't worked out in a while. They've been with enough women at this point in their lives that the little things us younger folk usually worry about don't really tend to faze them. I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, rejuvenated, and all around great. I decided to go work out. As I'm getting ready I flip on the news, and guess whose lovely face is plastered all over the TV screen? Turns out this guy is relatively famous, and me being the complete space cadet that I am had no clue. Note to self: brush up on pop culture. It's good to know who your celebrities are. I also found out that he was 46, married, and had five children including a daughter who was my same age. He hadn't been wearing his wedding ring the night before because, well, he's a scumbag.

What I'm getting at is that yes, sex with an older man can be unbelievably fun and exhilarating and thrilling. But it isn't the best habit to have. I used to think men of a certain age were emotionally stable, comfortable in themselves, and enjoyable to be around. In my experience they're either whiny, lazy, man children who throw hissy fits when they don't get what they want (aka me), or they're manipulative pricks who have no shame. Who knows if I'll ever jump on that bandwagon again, but if I do let's hope he's not crazy. Or married. Or both.

xx,

Gemma