I'm beginning to suspect men go through their mid-life crises sooner than women do. I haven't read any studies or seen any statistics proving my theory, but sometimes I just know the things I do (like I know, for instance, that people's libidos tend to go haywire in the month of October).
A friend of mine recently turned 40 and got a divorce. Now he's going to bars with women who only recently became legally allowed to drink; in fact, one of the girls he's trying to make his move on is only three years older than his daughter. I find myself hoping the next time I see him won't be on television, where he'll be standing right next to Dateline's Chris Hansen, staring straight into the lens of a hidden camera.
Now the other night I was chatting with another old (oops, wrong choice of word, perhaps?) friend, who was complaining about how one day he woke up and felt his mortality. I don't think he has any serious health concerns (except for a nasty smoking habit he never got rid of), so I think he was merely feeling his age (which is 45). I suppose if I ever woke up and realized I was 45 years old I might be slightly alarmed, but I'd like to think that if I were still in good health and in good shape by then I'd pat myself on the back for a job well done and slather on a bit more eye cream than usual.
So my friend -- just like that other friend of mine -- has been finding himself more and more drawn to younger women. And I don't mean women in their late '30s or early '40s, we're talking about young, nubile things who still own the right to wear a miniskirt. Luckily for him many of these leggy creatures seem to be attracted to older, successful men -- which he happens to be -- so he hasn't exactly been scaring away the ladies. But when he describes himself as a "dirty old man," I don't disagree with him. After all, I still vividly remember when men twice my age would hit on me (those days are, thankfully, over because the only thing a man twice my age could hit me with now is his walking cane), I'd cringe and call them pathetic and gross.
He then explained to me that being with a younger woman is like a shot of youth serum in the arm. Then he asked me if I didn't ever fantasize about having sex with a strapping 19-year-old man.
"Oh God, no."
Then I think he said something about how maybe I've become less imaginative as I've gotten older. (He just didn't go there now, did he?) And he sincerely wanted to know why I wouldn't, theoretically speaking of course. Didn't women prefer to be with younger men -- men who are virile, who can last longer in the sack? I might have replied about preferring to be with a man who knew what he was doing even if only briefly rather then suffer for an eternity with someone who didn't.
"Don't you think a young 'un could teach you a thing or two still?"
"Let's put it this way: if they didn't know what they were doing when I was their age, why the heck would I think they do now that I'm not?" (By the way I don't mean to diss you 19-year-old men out there; I'm simply saying you guys have a lot to look forward to and aspire for as you get older. And that's a good thing, right?)
Of course, we've all read about the phenomenon of older women in relationships with younger men -- but for the most part we're talking about a mere 10-year age difference here. NOT a wide enough gap for my friend, apparently. So I realized something I'd never thought of before: that if I were with a man half my age, I'd feel even older than I am now. So why is it so different for both of us?
I'm beginning to understand why so many women choose to get poked and prodded, sucked out and sliced in an ultimately futile battle to eradicate or at least halt all vestiges of aging, and possibly even shear off a few years or more. I still don't feel that need (I hardly think of myself as old, after all) and I hope I never do so. It took me years to get to the point where I am completely, utterly, wonderfully comfortable with myself, and I'm not sure I ever want to go back in time in any way, shape, or form.
In the meantime I have to admit that watching my friend wrestle with aging is like hurtling through a time tunnel backwards and forward at the same time. You see, once upon a time my friend and I were both quite young, we were much more than just friends, and I wished we would grow old together. But we only got older. But if we were still together, would I be now constantly looking over my shoulder?
I'll never know the answer, and perhaps that's a good thing. But what I do know is I'll never need a strapping 19-year-old hunk to provide me with one either. At my age, I'd like to think I have most of the answers I need.
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