Filed under: Relationships | Tags: My Younger Boyfriend, Older Woman Files, wuv
Thanks to botox, Pearl Cream, a cursed portrait genetics, at 32 I can still pass as a school girl. Like me, My Younger Boyfriend also defies age. While some guys bald and bloat at 25, his emo locks, skinny jeans and custom Dunks could land him the role of American sk8r at Degrassi High.
For the most part, our kiddie looks are fodder for fun, like the time we crashed the 8th grade prom in Irvington, VA. (“You two have to leave. No, not after ‘Lollipop.’ Now.”) BUT, it can be frustrating when we’re mistaken for kids in grown up situations…
I know at a certain age (mine), you’re supposed to get flushed and flattered when you’re carded for drinks. After all, in the grand scheme of things, that margarita is just a few sips away from a shot of Ensure, right? Truth is, I get carded often, and I don’t like it – especially when I am at booze-infused work events. It’s hard to feel like a professional when I’m pawing through my bag for an ID, insisting my first crush was on Jimmy Carter and I that I nearly died when Pam found Bobby in the shower, died.
When I am out with My Younger Boyfriend it’s worse. Together, one’s young looks magnifies the other’s, and we look like two “NYC Prep” rejects trying to sneak a buzz on fake IDs.
But who cares what other people think? What’s the big deal, anyway? I dunno, I guess I feel gypped out of hard earned years. A lot of people I know cringe as they tick the time away, edging into decades they had only previously watched with horror from a safe distance on TV…
But I like getting older, being my age. And I guess when I am out with My Younger Boyfriend, I’d like for folks to rekonize the ornery, wizened, crone I’ve become (inside). Not because I’m some cougar with a trophy/arm candy, but because I’m me now and not the dew-eyed (albeit fly and awesome) n00b I was back in the day.
Thus, I make a point of “casually” referencing my age around new people who meet us so no one gets it twisted. That inevitably leads to the reveal of My Younger Boyfriend’s age, at which point everyone does the math and a double take. Then come the raised eyebrows, incredulous outbursts, sly nods of approval/disapproval/confusion.
But the most shocking reaction of all? You’ll have to wait ’til my next column to read all about it.
2 Comments so far
Leave a comment