Eyes Wide Open
Me: She's 25. 25. 25. Do the math. Ok, I'll do it for you. I'm 17 years older than her. 17. 17. I'm too much older to even have been her babysitter. Seriously.
Friend: Lord, Stacee, you're not that old!
Me: I'm not old. I'm older. I have no illusions about this one. And she professes to be straight. Of course so was I when I was her age.
And that's about when I started to feel like Demi Moore. Or better yet, Diane Keaton in 'Somethings Gotta Give'. Older is ok. In some of life's arenas. Dating just happens to not be one of them. Someone, usually the younger and not-quite-as-wise half, repeatedly says that age doesn't matter. Until it does. Older is older for a reason and younger is, well, young. Invariably, age does matter. It does. At some point, the age difference becomes glaring. This may be five minutes, five months, or five years into the 'relationship', but it always ends up rearing it's ugly head eventually.
When I was thirty, I dated a girl who was nineteen. We were just shy of twelve years apart in age. At first it was fun. I was in a 'party stage' and her life was in chaos. She wanted a place to settle and I wanted someone to party with. Truthfully, it worked (other than her habit of cheating on me with her best friend) for nearly a year. Then the wheels slowly fell off. I worked three jobs; she went to school and bitched about how little money we had and how I was always so tired. Honey, you work three jobs, including EVERY weekend (meaning never having a day off), and you'll be tired too. After two years, the rubber ended up meeting the road and she left me for someone younger and less tired. I was heartbroken, but thankful once the dust settled.
You see, I know first hand that age does matter. Back in the day, my girlfriend was fond of saying it didn't matter, but I knew it would. And it did. Even she admits that now. Age makes us different. At the ripe old age of thirty, I was in a party 'stage' not making it my life's work. At eighteen, my girlfriend wanted a launching pad. I was mature in a been-there-done-that kind of way and she was bright eyed and bushy tailed and excited to finally be out of her parents' house. This is a dichotomy that doesn't mix well for long. Once I left my party stage for real life, we were done. I don't blame either of us. We were on opposite ends of the spectrum. To expect her to 'settle down' at the age of nineteen is just as preposterous as expecting me to continue a wild party life style at the age of thirty. It was fun while it lasted but by no means was it intended to last forever.
Fast forward to the seventeen year age difference I'm staring down right now. I have a 'date' with a twenty-five year old (straight) woman on Friday night. It seems innocent enough. She needed someone to take to a work holiday happy hour and since I know some of the people she works with, she thought I might want to go. Ok. Really? There are a ZILLION other people, mostly GUYS HER OWN AGE, that she could take to this thing and she chose me? A lesbian who graduated high school about the time she blew out her first birthday candle? Granted it may be nothing (except an ego boost), but it sure feels like she has some kind of intent and/or interest in me.
Yes, I feel like Diane Keaton when Keanu Reeves asked her out in 'Somethings Gotta Give'. She was incredulous, flabbergasted, etc and ultimately right that age does matter. Of course, she got to have fun with a hot, young guy who was all about her for awhile before settling down with Jack Nicholson (ew...) who was her age and much more in tune to where she was in life.
I mean it's not a bad pattern. Maybe I need to have a little fun with a young one to see that I want an actual relationship with someone older. At this point, I'm all about the fun, but not the relationship. It's not that relationships scare me (GOD BLESS, I'd kill for a stint on The Break Up Diet, even if it meant abject heartbreak). It's just that my life is good and I'm unwilling to compromise or live life on anyone else's agenda (Yes, that includes Ashley Judd at this point). Right now. That could change, and there are a couple candidates, but honestly I'm not expecting it to any time soon.
In the meantime, however, I'm going to hang out with a hot, young thing and see where it doesn't take me. I'm going in with eyes wide open and my feet firmly planted in reality. Besides, she's straight. I may be skeptical of that, but I allow everyone to be who they say they are. Hmmm... If I'd met me at twenty-five, I might have come out a few years earlier than I did. Eh, no matter. She's twenty-five to my forty-two. Gay-straight doesn't even figure into that equation. Seventeen years is seventeen years and age is definitely going to matter. Eventually.
Friend: Lord, Stacee, you're not that old!
Me: I'm not old. I'm older. I have no illusions about this one. And she professes to be straight. Of course so was I when I was her age.
And that's about when I started to feel like Demi Moore. Or better yet, Diane Keaton in 'Somethings Gotta Give'. Older is ok. In some of life's arenas. Dating just happens to not be one of them. Someone, usually the younger and not-quite-as-wise half, repeatedly says that age doesn't matter. Until it does. Older is older for a reason and younger is, well, young. Invariably, age does matter. It does. At some point, the age difference becomes glaring. This may be five minutes, five months, or five years into the 'relationship', but it always ends up rearing it's ugly head eventually.
When I was thirty, I dated a girl who was nineteen. We were just shy of twelve years apart in age. At first it was fun. I was in a 'party stage' and her life was in chaos. She wanted a place to settle and I wanted someone to party with. Truthfully, it worked (other than her habit of cheating on me with her best friend) for nearly a year. Then the wheels slowly fell off. I worked three jobs; she went to school and bitched about how little money we had and how I was always so tired. Honey, you work three jobs, including EVERY weekend (meaning never having a day off), and you'll be tired too. After two years, the rubber ended up meeting the road and she left me for someone younger and less tired. I was heartbroken, but thankful once the dust settled.
You see, I know first hand that age does matter. Back in the day, my girlfriend was fond of saying it didn't matter, but I knew it would. And it did. Even she admits that now. Age makes us different. At the ripe old age of thirty, I was in a party 'stage' not making it my life's work. At eighteen, my girlfriend wanted a launching pad. I was mature in a been-there-done-that kind of way and she was bright eyed and bushy tailed and excited to finally be out of her parents' house. This is a dichotomy that doesn't mix well for long. Once I left my party stage for real life, we were done. I don't blame either of us. We were on opposite ends of the spectrum. To expect her to 'settle down' at the age of nineteen is just as preposterous as expecting me to continue a wild party life style at the age of thirty. It was fun while it lasted but by no means was it intended to last forever.
Fast forward to the seventeen year age difference I'm staring down right now. I have a 'date' with a twenty-five year old (straight) woman on Friday night. It seems innocent enough. She needed someone to take to a work holiday happy hour and since I know some of the people she works with, she thought I might want to go. Ok. Really? There are a ZILLION other people, mostly GUYS HER OWN AGE, that she could take to this thing and she chose me? A lesbian who graduated high school about the time she blew out her first birthday candle? Granted it may be nothing (except an ego boost), but it sure feels like she has some kind of intent and/or interest in me.
Yes, I feel like Diane Keaton when Keanu Reeves asked her out in 'Somethings Gotta Give'. She was incredulous, flabbergasted, etc and ultimately right that age does matter. Of course, she got to have fun with a hot, young guy who was all about her for awhile before settling down with Jack Nicholson (ew...) who was her age and much more in tune to where she was in life.
I mean it's not a bad pattern. Maybe I need to have a little fun with a young one to see that I want an actual relationship with someone older. At this point, I'm all about the fun, but not the relationship. It's not that relationships scare me (GOD BLESS, I'd kill for a stint on The Break Up Diet, even if it meant abject heartbreak). It's just that my life is good and I'm unwilling to compromise or live life on anyone else's agenda (Yes, that includes Ashley Judd at this point). Right now. That could change, and there are a couple candidates, but honestly I'm not expecting it to any time soon.
In the meantime, however, I'm going to hang out with a hot, young thing and see where it doesn't take me. I'm going in with eyes wide open and my feet firmly planted in reality. Besides, she's straight. I may be skeptical of that, but I allow everyone to be who they say they are. Hmmm... If I'd met me at twenty-five, I might have come out a few years earlier than I did. Eh, no matter. She's twenty-five to my forty-two. Gay-straight doesn't even figure into that equation. Seventeen years is seventeen years and age is definitely going to matter. Eventually.
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