Dating connected man
There are some “cultural” differences that occur when you’re dating a younger guy. He’s never seen “Raising Arizona,” but he loves Bob Dylan and Jim Croce. He describes himself as an “old soul.” I’ve taken him to social gatherings where he was one of the youngest adults there, and, thanks to his amazing sense of humor and the fact that he performs on stage in front of hundreds of strangers a week, he’s blended in with flying colors. I get the occasional look — especially when we go out for drinks and get carded (hey, at least I’m still getting carded).
And I’m pretty sure more than one person thought that, with our similar hair, skin and eye colors, that we were either brother and really older sister or mom and son, but the pros far outweigh the cons in our relationship. He’s turned me on to some new music and I’ve introduced him to some “classic” movies (if you consider “Better Off Dead” a classic movie, which you really should).
As Dolly Parton once famously quipped, “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” Because of all of this, I’m constantly called the “c-word” — that “c-word” being “cougar.” I do really hate that word.
But, when you’re dating someone almost 19 years younger than you are, the association is inevitably going to happen. Well, since my divorce, my experiences in the online dating world have been pretty disastrous, to say the least.
One guy I dated on and off I dubbed “Copperfield” (as in magician David Copperfield), as he’d disappear for weeks at a time between dates.
I asked my friend how old he was, to which she replied, “He’s in his early 30s.” Both of my husbands were a few years younger than I was, but I had never been with someone more than 10 years my junior.
Every time I gave OKCupid a try, I specified my desired age range for a mate to be between 35 and 55 years old — and I’d get constantly barraged with messages from enthusiastic young 20-somethings looking to be my “cub.” The perception that I’m (supposedly) at my sexual peak seemed to be the prime motivation for these boys to reach out to me.
Not that it was very different from the responses I got from men my age — they were just far less eager and often downright aloof.
I told her what the situation was and she helpfully boiled it down for me. ” I said, “Yes I am.” She countered with “Well, that’s all that matters.” I still haven’t told my folks, but I suspect my mom has figured it out.
I’m okay with not having to discuss it further for the time being. In reality, I am old enough to technically be his mother, but I still don’t care. I have been through two marriages and two divorces.