Sunday, February 11, 2007


I'm in my early 30's, quickly careening toward the mid-mark at a breakneck (it seems) pace.
Massimo is, I think, 55.
Evan will be 46 soon.
Other than Seth, most of my boyfriends pre-marriage in the last 10 or so years were considerably older than me - at least by a decade.
It would seem that I prefer the older man.
I find it hard to explain, then, why or how I found myself making out like a teenager in heat with a 22 year-old football player last night.
Curiouser still, said sports stud has called me three times today, trying to get me to be his own personal Mrs. Robinson (a reference he is not likely to comprehend).
The mirth! The glee!
The experience?
As my friend put it, we are both in our sexual primes. This could be a fun month before junior goes back to finish his last semester of college.
I think it might be fun. To for once try cradle-robbing, as opposed to my usual m.o. of stealing from the grave.


Blogger Lou said...

I hope that we are privy to the tales of this new twist!

11:32 AM  
Blogger desert diamond said...

Hi Lou,
In keeping with the spirit of the post as titled: you can count on it...

6:10 PM  
Blogger Tom Paine said...

I have been trying to get C to balance the reloads of the younger man against the "ick" factor of him reminding her of her son.

9:47 PM  
Blogger desert diamond said...

Indeed, how to reconcile the allure of someone who needs no more than a well-designed look to spring ready for action on the one hand, and the fact that when I was in my fucking heyday, the high point of his day was recess...

6:18 AM  
Blogger Tom Paine said...

Older men still make the best, most-considerate lovers.

3:31 PM  

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