Now you if you do a search for men close to my age range within the city I live, its a pretty tragic mish-mash of fat grey bogans. I dare anyone to search and ask – would you befriend this person? let alone sleep with them and the answer is invariably – NO.
Hence my predilection for younger men, which is, it seems a two way street, so it goes both ways. It’s kinda by default this is happening. I find old people (me) way more interesting, but that’s life’s cruelty, and that ‘5 men’ saying again pops up.
He has to be good in bed,
Your friends/ family/ kids have to like him
He has to make you laugh
He has to be able to cook
and he has to be able to stimulate your mind………
(and not necessarily in that order)
And it’s really important these 5 men never meet each other. Nothing so far has proved me wrong – and – Youth is wasted on the young – how true.
Last week an email pops into my INbox, he’s way beyond my age range, incredibly interesting personal blurb, and a variance of adventure photos, you can see he was ruggedly handsome in his hey day. A visiting scholar, obviously incredibly intelligent, very well travelled, a plethora of publicly aired lectures and talks on the internet, ahhhh fresh meat. I respond quite blazae, he is so far beyond my age range, but his emails are filled with humour, and it seems he’s on a boat off the coast of the eastern seaboard collecting DNA samples and trying to type emails on his new phone to me too !! my interest is sparked, he invites me to be his female cohort on a trip to Lake Como to pick up an award, my imagination is tweeked, we could call in and see George (Clooney).
The emails go back and forth, until he boards a plane back to this city that night. He is dying to see me he says, like a little boy excited about his first bike. He’s quite frank, and honest and it’s endearing….
By chance our interaction has coincided with me being in bed with the flu, and I’m able to catch up on various computer bound tasks, checking emails is one of them.
After 3 days of intense emailing, I drag myself out of bed, I straighten my hair, put on some tight jeans, heels and a fur coat – I look hot, it’s midweek and I meet him at a lovely thai restaurant in the city, I walk in and recognise him immediately only to realise a client of mine is sitting on the table right in front of him, (only in THIS city) I greet them both and sit down.
He is actually more handsome in person, we order some drinks and start chatting furiously, the waitress must have approached us 5 times before we even ordered food, it was all so easy. We talked a lot about movies, and we had exactly the same take on them, agreed on a lot of different topics, I was a bit worried he would talk about his work, but he didnt. He is leaving for the Philippines on Sunday for sample collection and wants to take me with him. Yeah – I can take off. I survived 3 weeks in Cambodia with my Ex – I can survive anything.
We leave the restaurant and stroll through the city streets just talking, he’s holding my hand and takes any opportunity to hug me and feel me, he feels pretty fit for an ol’ guy. He knows he can’t come too close to me, I’ve been sick with the flu, I won’t let him risk getting sick so soon before leaving. As we walk I ask him about his divorce non-challantly, he has a 30 year old son and a 17 year old both to different mothers, as hes explaining this to me I notice something sliding down the outside of my right leg, – I’d worn the jeans the week before briefly for a work launch, and like many of my clothes I dump on the end of my bed, and occasionally I will put away, I suddenly realise its my knickers I had been wearing the night of the launch that were still in my jeans ! ( how the fuck did they manage to remain IN my jeans through 2 trips to the bathroom and actually getting back into them?? are they THAT tight??) anyway, I casually manage to let them slide to the back of my heel and grab them and put them in my fur pocket, he didn’t notice, phew, but I missed vital information about his ex wife. Do I ask him again? He walks me to my car, hugs me and I drive home. A text comes in 10 minutes later – ‘Nice’ he says.
“thankyou for a lovely dinner” I say
“No – you were lovely”
what a gentleman.
I contemplate the possibility of actually being sexually attracted to someone 16 years my senior, he’d treat me like a princess. I go home aglow, awash with the possibilities.
Emails pour in the following day, he seems to favour this format, not texting, not even calling me, he is trying to explain the politics of his area of expertise within the academic landscape of Australia. Sounds like major shit is going on, and Mercury is in retrograde – nothing works out when its in retrograde, he is an astronomer I wander if he would look at it like that?
He sends me a long text saying, we need to talk, that a long time a go a man died because of him on a very deep dive into the ocean, this mans heart exploded, he performed 30 minutes of CPR before the helicopter arrived, that he did not fair well in the years that followed, too many lines of coke, and accusations, that someone has stolen an idea from him 10 years ago and is now slandering him and blocking him from moving forward in his community in this country, he sounds like he’s unhinged. It sounds complex and complicated and of course I cant just meet someone normal regardless of age, in fact – of course – he has been on the planet longer than me so he would of course have more stuff……..
He bounces back with blatantly sexualized emails.
Maybe my ex was right, all men are born perverts and die perverts, woman are controlled by hormones and end up either looking like men, drinking cups of tea with girlfriends or like me participating in sexual activity with men young enough to be my sons……
He emails me to say that he cant take me on the Philippine trip, the university wont allow any non employees to travel to zones considered high risk for both malaria, muslims and other political reasons.
I had already decided that 3 weeks away from home was too long any way, but responded cynically with,
“I didn’t expect to be going, that’s just the shit men say to get laid, like, my life isn’t the same without you in it, and I still love you, and other shit like that….”
He emails to tell me how much he’s ‘abusing’ himself over thinking about me and my body……
geesh doesn’t matter what age does it…..part of me is flattered the other half surprised he can still get it up.
Why did I think for a minute that his age would make him any different from any other horny 30 year old????
In fact his dramatic emotionally erratic following emails, concerning, academic politics, paranoia, a long history of cocaine abuse, not wanting to get involved with me at all because of this and his travel commitments.
My cynicism has worn me down today.
Although I did expect an email from him tonight, but he has disappeared…….