I'm 65, but I could pass for 53. I'm tall, slender, and as handsome as ever. I have some grey, but that's only because I don't think coloring my hair would work. I have a lot of money, and I do like hotties.
When I read something like this, it gives me great joy:
My new tall, dark and handsome boyfriend was standing across the room looking so fine in his shirt; I couldn't take my eyes off him.
It was my pal's birthday party and the first time I had ever dragged my latest man-friend out with my buddies.
I wasn't sure how it would go, yet there he was, charming the pants off them all by himself, busting out his A-material small talk with some friends in a corner. He was doing his best to impress. It was very sweet. He was going all out for me.
Meanwhile, I was at the snack table and before I could curse myself for leaving him to go in for another cheesy cracker, I was accosted by a buddy's wife I barely knew, a nasty woman named Sue. "How old is he?" she pried.
After politely playing 20 questions with Sue about my new boyfriend, I knew this was the one she was getting at. I wanted to say something like, "He's not as old as those frown lines make you look!" Anything that would shut her up and let me enjoy my prized romance.
Instead I shoved a cracker in my mouth and mulled over her question as I pretended it was hard to chew. It was more like her question was hard to swallow.
When people are asking you, "how old is he?" it means that they know how old he is, but they just want to confirm that you are a pig for dating an older man. Ladies, let nothing get between you and your older man. Say something like, "old enough to make me wonder if lubricants can be shipped by the gallon" or, "would you ask a jackhammer how old it is?"
Yes, my new man was older than me, much older than me. But I wasn't some gold digger trying to claw at his cash account, or even a woman with daddy issues. I just thought he was the hottest, funniest man I'd ever met.
He was more exciting to be with than any of the 20-something guys I knew. I was smitten with his wit and the way he filled out a pair of pants. Really, are there better reasons to date someone?
Should I seriously have let 15 years come between me and happiness, just so I could avoid judgment from girls like Sue? I really should have answered her question with the long list of truly great things about dating an older man.
Slut it up, sister. Slut it up.
15 years isn't that much. I would prefer there to be about 42 or 43 years between me and my hotties. I need someone in their prime, ready to use a trampoline and a hair dryer. I need a woman with no interest in politics or government--that would just foul things up. They tend to create young liberal feminists in colleges these days, so an uneducated hottie is fine by me. I don't mean stupid. I mean someone who hasn't had anything above a 200 level course in women's studies. This is why a man should always marry a girl from a state school. Never marry an Ivy League woman--too analytical.
More than anything else, I'm fun. I can still ride a jet ski. I own my own boat. I don't hide from my problems--I just blog about them. What's not to love?