And Here’s To You, Missus McMartin
I knew he was younger. Younger than me, that is. I just didn’t know how much younger. I’m talking about my new boyfriend. Well, before he became my boyfriend and he was […]
Written bySusan McMartin
I knew he was younger. Younger than me, that is. I just didn’t know how much younger. I’m talking about my new boyfriend. Well, before he became my boyfriend and he was simply just new. We met through a friend who “wasn’t sure how old he was,” so he was no help. Nope, I was going to have to figure this one out myself.
Now I should let you know that I am an excellent detective, and in another life I would be riding a bicycle all over Studio City solving mysteries. But in this life I’m simply a writer who is desperately trying to understand her own life’s mystery by scribbling down her observations in notepads and sharing them with you.
Oh sure, I could’ve simply asked him how old he was. But we all know what happens when you ask someone their age … they ask back. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him because I was sure I liked him and even more sure that I was older than him. And until I knew for sure we were something, I didn’t want to reveal what I knew to be sure—that I’m not as young as I look.
I gathered by certain information he dropped in our early phone conversations that he was over 25 and under 45. That leaves 20 years of wiggle room to work with. Now being that I’m over 40, I was hoping he was alive closer to when Sting was the front man of The Police and farther from the time he became known as the old, bald guy who can have sex for a long stretch of time.
After a week of talking, followed by our first date, we knew we were crazy about each other, and I knew we both needed to come clean.
“Okay, on the count of three let’s just both say it and get it over with. 1, 2, –” Band-Aid ripped. Ouch. We were eight years apart. Me being the one living on the planet eight years longer than him.
Here’s the deal: It’s NOT a deal. Not for him, not for me. Yet it’s amazing how the rest of the world views older women dating younger men. We’re called cougars, Mrs. Robinsons, sugar mamas. Older men date women younger than their daughters, and they’re considered rock stars. But if a woman happens to find love with someone younger, they think she must be a rich loser or he must be a broke winner.
The truth is, younger men and older women are popping up all over Coupleville. And not just the Demi Moores and Heidi Klums of the world. We’re your neighbors, your co-workers, your PTA moms. That’s right, people! We’re in our 40s, in our prime and in our younger guys’ bedrooms!
I have dated older men. But what I’ve discovered is that younger men get me and I get them. Maybe it’s because they’ve been raised by progressive mamas who are teaching them to wear their heart on their sleeve, dance naked and not be afraid to say they want to snuggle.
I LIKE THAT.
So, here’s to us! The ladies who lunch … with younger men.
Susan McMartin is a writer on the TV show Mom on CBS. She lives in Studio City. To enjoy more of her witty commentary go to susanmcmartin.com.