THE APOPCALYPSE: CULTURE ON THE VERGE.

The Older Woman Files: My Younger Boyfriend Just Turned 25

My Younger Boyfriend recently turned 25, narrowing our age gap to 7, vs. 8, years. I feel slightly less dirty when I tell people our ages (and they always seem to ask), you know, the subtle difference between saying “I maimed your mother” vs “I killed her.”

My Younger Boyfriend is sort of freaking out about his age. “I’m sooooo ooooooold,” he’ll moan.

I either roll my eyes or kiss him.

When I turned 25, I had a rollerskating party at The Roxy.  Mr. Cheeks’ “Lights, Camera, Action” was my Bday jam. Since then, The Roxy has closed and Cheeks has fallen off the face of pop. My Younger Boyfriend doesn’t miss ‘em. He’s never heard of them.

Did I think I’d ever end up dating someone much younger than me? Er, no. I’m all for Demi and Ashton but I always assumed that if I December/May Romanced it, I’d be Miss May clutching the gnarled claw of some arty great on the deck of his Montauk summer home, wondering if al dente penne would bruise his delicate gums. The dudes I’ve dated have been my age or older, space junk I picked up as I orbited through school and jobs.

But OH what great equalizers the R and Downtown 4 train are! Nine months ago My Younger Boyfriend spent a morning commute giving me the eye. Summoning up liquid strength (I could faintly smell the previous night out til 4 am on his breath, oh to be 24!), he followed me onto the street and managed an “Excuse me.”

I thought he was a ballsy college kid, which was cute. (Or does that make me creepy?) Then I learned he worked nearby doing web design. I gave him my email address. The next day he showed up at my job with a cup of coffee and a mix-cd. (?!?!?!)  We had sake at Decibel that night. He was sweet and funny and happy, not a cynical or jaded or ironic bone in his 15-lbs-heavier-than-my body.

We’ve been chilling ever since.

I’ve been trying to figure out why this is one of the best relationships I’ve been in. At the core:

• I’m got some experience. Yes, I’ve learned some brutal, harrowing, heart-eviscerating, soul-demolishing, psyche-waterboarding lessons over the course of my relationships.  So I actively try to treat him better. And me better. And us better.
• He has less experience.  Which means he’s just a happy dude. (Bwah ha ha.)  On top of the fact that it is his nature to be a happy dude. It’s sooo Chinesey, really, Double Happiness! No baggage. No mindgamery. No twisted Ex spectres of haunting his every move. Just a sweet string of firsts and fun for him which helps makes everything seem new to me too.
• We laugh ourselves stoopid.

There’s plenty more to say on the subject of dating someone 7-or-8-depending-on-what-month-it-is years younger. That’s what The Older Woman Files are for. Stay tuned for more!

*POP!*

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