For the first time in my life I could sort of understand why men of my age go out with younger women.
I never really got it before. Women in their thirties, their bodies are still springy and you can talk to them. They are still young, but they have seen something of life-probably quite a few of the same views that you have seen.
Why would any man trade that kind of equal partneship for someone with a pierced navel whose idea of a hot date is some awful nightclub and half a tab of something pretending to be Ecstasy?
If you can go out with someone who has read the same books as you, who has watched the same television programmes as you, who has loved the same music as you, then why would you want someone whose idea of a soul singer is the guy in Jamiroquai?
But now I got it. Now I could understand the attraction.
Men of my age like younger women because the younger woman has fewer reasons to be bitter.
The younger woman is less likely to have had her heart bashed around by broken homes, divorce lawyers and the sight of children who are missing a parent. The younger woman doesn’t have all those disappointments that women-and men, too, don’t forget the men-in their thirties drag around with them like so much excess luggage.
It was cruel but true. The younger woman is far less likely to have had her life fucked up by some man.
Men in their thirties and forties don’t go out with younger woman for her bouncy body and her pierced tongue. That’s just propaganda. They go out with her so that they can be the one who fucks up her life.