There was a twenty year difference in our ages.
Twenty years. What can you do with someone who is twenty years younger than you? Apparently there is plenty!
When men date women much younger than themselves, their envious friends give them a slap on the back, receive the approving eye, and are applauded by old geezers everywhere as still having “it”. These men are seen as role-models for the male species. They are seen as pillars of virility and honored for grabbing a most worthy prize. The assumption is made that not only will they bed this young filly but that she will also appreciate it and all is right with the world. They will “get that” and a mighty celebration of ginormous proportions will be held with high fives for everyone.
Women who date much younger men, however, are looked upon in a totally different light. When an older woman walks into a room with a much younger man, it is first assumed that this is a familial relationship of the mother/son or nephew/aunt type. How sweet, they are going to lunch, the movies, the museum…a bar? It never crosses anyone’s mind that this could be something different. They never think that this grown ass woman has what it takes to give this strapping young man the joy ride of his young life. Maybe this woman wants to be with this young man, and more importantly, he wants to be with her. It is not until someone notices that he has his hand on the small of her back, he is holding her hand a bit too long or he whispers in her ear and her responsive laugh is not the laugh of an auntie, but one far more intimate in nature. The glances are not one of joy and celebration, but more of “What the Hell is going on here?” “She should be ashamed of herself.”
I am not sure what “Peanut’s” pick up line was, (Yes, I call him Peanut), but it was straight forward. He told me that he found me fascinating and attractive. He wanted to know more about me. He caught my eye with his style of dress and we just happened to be at the same place at the same time. (How fortunate for me.) He pulled up a seat and sat next to me at the bar. I looked at him and immediately knew he was old enough to be my son. Not having a poker face, he saw that thought run screaming across my mind and said, “I know I am-too young, but can we just talk?” It was just a conversation, I thought, what could it hurt. So we talked. (After I asked him for his ID…he was 26.)
He was a grad student studying religion. I know, right? How ironic is that? We talked about his misguided theology that was book based and not quite yet developed by life experiences. He told me of his disappointment with organized main line denominations, I told him to just find who he was and the rest would come. I spoke of old school music like the Isley Brothers and the deeper meaning of “Fight the Power” as he explained to me about a group named Floetry and all I had to do was say yes. I laughed. He laughed. We laughed
Peanut made me laugh
I introduced him to the kitchen and taught him how to make a real meal for when a “real” girl came into his life he would know how to cook at least one thing to impress her. He taught me about rap and hip hop. Introducing me to a guy named Kanye and a Tribe called Quest. I listened. He listened. We listened.
Peanut listened to me.
Sex with Peanut was OK. Yes, just OK. There is something to be said about being the one with the most experience and being able to say what and how you want what you want with someone who wanted to learn and give it to you. I did not have to call him “Big Daddy”. I did not have to stroke him, nor stroke his ego to keep it up. Peanut did not require that. He was on the up side, not needing the assistance of a little blue pill. Note to self: These young guys and their stamina are not for old ladies. We get tired.
In this area of our “relationship”, he let me be the lead. And while I did not teach him how to do it, I was able to show him things that if he listened would give his future wife a great sexual experience.
I showed him how to hold a woman so that she felt safe after she has been at her most vulnerable with him. How to appreciate that vulnerability and if he could not understand the gift he was given, he needed to leave it and her alone until he could.
I shared with him how to whisper in her ear words that make her know that she is most important to him. To gently let her know that she has nothing to worry about because he would protect her and if he did not mean those words he should not say them.
Peanut was taught that if she gets hers first, he will always get his – always. (Most men seem to forget this, but that is a whole different blog)
Candles- scented earthy tones are good for men to have. Wine – have one that you love and find out what she likes. Good sexy music – Old school music, especially 80’s, is some good “Let’s get it on” music. I shared some good knowledge with Peanut.
Lest you think this was all on sided, Peanut taught me as well. He taught me that when a real man rubs and feels your folds and curves, it is not a judgement, but an adoration and exploration. I learned about the world of video games and how some of the features on my cell phone I had no idea about. I learned to open my mind about the people that I am willing to date. Peanut taught me that it is appropriate to laugh during sex because it can be funny.
From the day I met Peanut, I knew it was not something that would be permanent, and that was perfectly fine. We knew that it was an experience for experience sake. It was a wonderful time, a brief moment in time, and a memorable time. Why memorable? Because I dared to date someone that I would have written off just for being “too young”. I enjoyed myself, and I hope he did too. Peanut is married now. He is a husband, father and a very successful man. Every now and then he will call and see how this old lady is doing. That makes me smile. He tells me about Jay-Z and I explain to him the Dr. Spock is a pediatrician not on Star Trek.
My Peanut experience…damn it was good.