Maybe it was the Bowmore cask-strength flowing through my bloodstream, giving me a rosier memory of events, but this past Friday night I had the luck to carry on a conversation with a lovely woman five years my senior.
I say luck because instead of awkwardly stuttering or mumbling about the room’s ambiance or something else that lamely attempts to keep up anything resembling a conversation, I managed to piece together a work of art, a masterpiece—and I have the phone number to prove it.
After going out to a scotch and beer tasting, I met her later having drinks at another establishment. She being part of a random bump-into group of friends of friends of friends. Things happened. Sparks flew.
And, I’m not one to gloat about my personal life, especially when it is filled with depressing themes of overt rejection. The fact that my repeated calls and messages have since gone unanswered, sometimes conspicuously disconnecting after a few rings is beside the point, but it left me wondering about the possibilities and the overall ramifications of these types of relationships.
What would it mean for me, 24, to be seeing a woman, 29? How does society feel about relationships between an older woman and a younger man?
Now, on paper, five years is not all that much, especially standing next to the Hollywoodism of Demi Moore’s and Ashton Kutcher’s 15-year gap. Sure she’s in her 40s, but she looks like she’s his age. But if you ask me, it’s bullshit that “normal” is just the opposite in our non-celebrity lifestyles, that the age-gap can, and usually does, go one way and not cause a stir, but in cases like theirs, the age difference draws the ire of Harper voters and Bill O’Reilly alike.
Now, there are obvious benefits to dating a woman close to, or in her 30s (the sex, I’m talking about the sex), but what else could there be?
Sure guys, she may get those lines and, I daresay, wrinkles a little earlier than you, but she sure is way cooler and easier to relate to than a lot of girls five years in the opposite direction. Plus you are way less likely to end up in jail, accidentally or otherwise. Nineteen (“Are you really 19?”) as opposed to 29 is a world of difference.
And girls, think about how nice the misunderstood, aspiring artist is, how utterly cute he can be when you talk to him and he actually listens—saying nothing of the now equally matched sex-drives. Take, for example, me.
I have good breath, I’m smart and I’m hilarious. So why won’t you return my phone calls, you fucking bitch?
Anyway, I’m sure society will judge you women as being cougars or cradle-robbers—they always judge—but that doesn’t make them right in any way, shape or form.
Maybe the scorn levelled at you will put things in perspective, that other people have such unfulfilling relationships that they have nothing better to do than impose their views on the world.
And guys, expect to be held in reverence by your peers as they constantly ask you questions, “what’s it like? Does she have any hot friends?”
I’ll remember to ask myself that next time.