Why do men always go for younger women?
08 May 2015, 11:06
What is it about men and age?We women of a certain age are sexy. And bright and vivacious and funny and clever and amazing and magnificent.
We may have a couple of wrinkles and our bodies may not be as ravishing as they used to be but we have life and wisdom and we’ve kind of learned what is and isn’t important.
We’re enlightened. And we’re aware. And did I mention we’re still very very sexy.
So what is it with men? Older men wanting younger women. Even my ex-husband landed up with a new child bride. She’s very lovely but she could be his daughter for goodness sake.
And I come across this all the time. The older man seeking an ‘attractive young woman’. The sixty-year-old's looking for thirty-year-old's, any thirty-year-old as long as she is sexy. And firm.
Why? Don’t men want someone they can talk to? Connect with. I am starting to realise not. I think mostly they want someone who will make them feel young and invincible.
Someone who will reassure them that they are still alive - that they still have what it takes to be a man. To let them know they’ve still ‘got it’.
I generalise of course, as I am prone to do. There are some very cool older men out there who are not aware of age.
And it does go the other way too of course. A lot of young women quite like the idea of an older man. I don’t think this is always about mutual connection or even about love. I think this is about money, power and sex, which are all really appealing.
A man who can provide financial stability, pay for overseas tickets and keep a woman in a constant supply of French underwear and champagne can be kind of hard to resist.
I try and embrace my age. With age comes a certain confidence as well as a sense of adventure. That thing of - hey, let’s do this before it’s too late. We lose a lot of fear as we get older and are more willing to explore new things.
But we’re also aware we need to look after ourselves, work out, keep trim, fit and healthy. Which is why I go to the gym.
I spend a lot of time in the sauna where in-between sweating and death everyone talks. It’s a great way to get to know people.
Yesterday I was chatting to a young man. It was fun and we sorted out the South African education system, compared our favourite single malts and even flirted a little. I didn’t think of it as flirting though, but when we were walking out he asked for my number.
I choked. He was twenty-four. Twenty something years younger than me.
When I said ‘no’ it was mostly because of what I’d been thinking about my ex-husband’s child bride. And because I did not want to be seen as a cougar. And because I have been so judgemental about older men. And younger women. And everyone else.
But mostly because it terrified me. This young guy. With his man bun. Firm muscles. And gorgeously sculpted six pack. And what he might think of my not so perfect body.
Anyway. He persuaded me. He wouldn’t listen to my thing of ‘age’ and ‘what will we talk about’ because he reminded me we’d spent half an hour in the sauna and hadn’t stopped talking. He also told me I had fabulous legs.
So I said yes. And we’re going out tonight. And I’m very very nervous. I’ll let you know how it goes, dear Reader. Every single detail.
Unless it turns out he’s a friend of one of my children. In which case, I’ll be dead.
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