He Offers Me Nothing

balloons

*

He says, “All due respect but those boobs,” then a hearts-for-eyes-smiley-face, and then two hands clapping.

He says, “Older women help me fulfill my total potential.”

When I am offended, he says, “Well, it’s just the facts, you are older.”

I read it with violent intonation.  I read it like it’s new information.

You ARE older.  YOU are older.  You are OLDER.

He waits for a response not knowing that I am already bored with this, doesn’t understand that I am turned off by his selfishness; he has never even thought to ask himself what it is that he offers me, them, us.

It is nothing.  He offers me nothing.  He is without an offering.

Why am I always expected to provide, to be something, to give of my body and my mind.  Smile for them.  Make them laugh.  Show them your body.  Give them everything they want.  Be kind.  Be pleasant.  Be a thing worthy of their idiotic conversation, their tedious ill-thought out plan.

Have they even considered that they are unloveable, unlikeable?

Why is being alive enough?  Why is existing and being attractive a thing?  Why are the numbers of people who cannot think a thing through so large?

I know there is a bitterness spreading in me, growing slowly, insidious, like ivy on my heart.  I’m thinking about learning math instead of men.  I’m thinking I could be happy without kissing if I had something interesting to turn to.  I wonder if I could write jokes about numbers.  I wonder if I could turn this bitterness into a formula.

I’m thinking thinking thinking why does no one ever worry about my full potential?

8 Reasons Why I Date Younger Guys

Cougar Paw

 

Technically a “cougar” is a woman who dates men seven years her junior, but I have yet to dip that low so I assume I am still a cougar in training. My current boyfriend is 5 years younger than me and since I’ll be 30 any minute now and I’ve been analyzing why I like to date the young’uns. So here goes:

1. Older men judge too harshly

If you were a nice person you would call me a “free spirit.” I don’t have a long-term plan; I’m a stand up comedian who has a day job that has nothing to do with my college degrees because I don’t want to live on the streets nor do I want a typical career. Older guys ask me things like, “But what about when you’re done with comedy? Don’t you want kids? Why are there so many donut wrappers in your car? When’s the last time you did laundry?” Ugh, no thanks. I’ve been married and I sucked at it. Yeah he was controlling, but I just straight up wasn’t ready to be a responsible human yet and I’m in no rush to get wifed up again. I don’t take well to commands.

There’s probably some psychology mumbo jumbo in there because my stepdad was violent when I was younger so maybe I date younger guys because then I can have the control and they’re less likely to have the balls to challenge me, much less hurt me. It could also be the reason why I like these younger guys to be under 6 feet and with cherubic faces—the less intimidating the better. Fuck psychology, let’s keep it simple.

2. It’s easier to win arguments and feel validated

When you’ve got years of life experience over someone else you can win pretty much any argument on that basis alone. I can recite precedents to prove my validity, I can bullshit like people had to before Google was a thing, and in general condescend just enough to where they feel like I’m an authoritative figure and just give in. It gets a little “sexy librarian” sometimes and yeah you guessed it, we’re into it. Some of the young guys are feisty—these relationships never last with me. I like to be the alpha and normally the guys just fall in line. Sometimes I bribe them with candy and then the fighting is over. See? Fun.

Although, regular conversation stops at a certain point and sometimes I’d sure love if it could go deeper but hey, that’s what my friends are for. Most of my buddies are comedians too, so I’m surrounded by a ton of really smart, really deep and mostly broken humans—literally my perfect matches. I get my intellectual conversations out there and keep it simple with my pups.

3. Sex stuff blows their minds

I’ve been around the block and I’ve learned a lot of things about sex; knowing how much kink I can handle allows me to start it slow and build up to my potential. Younger girls aren’t sure of their bodies and their sexuality yet, so a confident woman who knows how to keep things moving and make it interesting can be pretty alluring. I’m not saying I’m a goddamn panther in the bedroom or anything but I have learned a trick or two to keep me on my game and it is always appreciated.

4. They can usually get it up

You can’t have sex if they can’t get a boner and that’s a fact. That’s why Viagra is covered by health insurance as it aids in procreation. Older guys who’ve already developed drinking problems and/or anxiety from past relationships can struggle with erectile dysfunction and being on the receiving end of that is one of the worst feelings in the world for a woman. Yeah, you were drunk/nervous/tired or whatever, but I’m still going to think it’s because you didn’t like my ass or you noticed one boob is slightly larger than the other. Young dudes are in awe of nakedness and live their lives as ambassadors to Boner City. It’s…pretty awesome. They’ll develop anxieties in their own time but that’s not my problem right now.

5. Their activities don’t bum you out and are super #trendy

Young dudes like to hike, take your dog to the park, eat from food trucks and binge watch Netflix.  They don’t want to sip wine, look at art or go on double dates. They basically just want to go places where they can take fresh to death Instagram pictures and honestly…I’m into it. Hashtag #adventures! These guys are my personal photographers, charting my 20’s for me in one concise little app where I can be immortalized as busy and for having flawless (filtered) skin. These guys aren’t thinking about trying to be the best husband material they can—they just want people to see them balling out of control.  They keep me current with trends and that makes me feel young. Also, the joke fodder I get from them has helped me write at least 10 minutes about dating younger dudes. Thumbs up for that.

6. No one takes the relationship seriously

My friends don’t have to listen to me gripe about a guy’s inefficiencies as a boyfriend because I honestly couldn’t care less. I’m in it for the fun, the sex, and the lack of fighting and judgment. I listen to my friends discuss their engagement rings, the traits that make their lovers potentially good or bad fathers and how their families tolerate them. I don’t give a fuck what my family thinks. The only people who seem to care about the age difference are his parents, but once they’re convinced I don’t want to trap him with a baby (which I don’t, holy shit do I NOT want a baby) then we’re usually cool. Some of my friends seem jealous of my carefree attitude but in their core I know they think they have it better because their relationships are “going somewhere.” Maybe they do. Maybe right now I don’t care.

7. His bros boost my ego

I anticipated being called “grandma” or “Mrs. Robinson” a lot more than I have been…which is not at all. I have not heard one negative comment from any of my lovers’ friends, only high praise. “Nice pull, dude. Older chick, dig it,” etc. I’m seemingly unattainable, dipping into forbidden territory to fuck up social standards. I’m seen as a rebel, sexier than I should be given credit for (because of the confidence that comes with age and experience) and my stories are valid and interesting to them. I give advice on how to get women (respectfully), and at the same time maybe I advise them on how to pick a credit card and start trying to build their credit for their futures. Or maybe I tell them where the napkin goes at dinner. I give off a super mom vibe but seriously who doesn’t love moms?

8. Respect from other women your age

I get a lot of props from women 30+. My cuties look great in pictures and pump up a boring dinner party by upping the sexual atmosphere and keeping everything fresh and relevant. I’m a little bit of a hot mess, and the fact that my guys don’t seem to be bothered by that elicits comments like “He’s just 100% into whatever you want to do, isn’t he?” Yep. “He can fuck you morning or night, can’t he?” Yep. “Do you guys go out on dates and stuff, talk about life?” Totally. I really can’t complain.

Oh wait, yes I can. I’m a female human so it’s kind of my intrinsic right. Before you think this is a free-for-all awesome amazing fun happy time, there are some cons: for one, porn these days has stepped up its game to the point where I either need to ban it from our relationship or learn how to compete with it. This concerns me. On the positive side, it makes me stay in shape and keep stretching to keep myself limber. They’re also super active outside, and I have been sedentary in an office job for years. But again, they challenge me to keep myself active. Those 20 years of ballet only come in handy in the bedroom these days but I’m in better shape now than I was 5 years ago, because of that pressure to keep up. These guys literally keep me young.

So if you’re a chick in your late 20’s to early 30’s (possibly even a divorcée like myself), looking for a fun relationship judgment-free, consider fostering a cougar pup for a while. But make sure they have a smart phone to keep you socially present or else what’s the point, you know? Enjoy.

Dating a 23 Year Old…Not Just For 23 Year Olds Anymore (Part Two)

Hand Holding

 

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t was 8:00pm.  The date had been going well? 

I had suggested, if you want, we could go catch a movie?

Seeking a friend for the end of the world.  (Sidebar: Spoiler alert…this is NOT the comedy fest the trailer had suggested but instead a die hard romance flick with all the first date negatives of an independent film–numerous parts of total silence and nobody wants to make out while the rest of the theatre groans at the slobbering lip smacking of two newbs in the back row).

He was all over it.  I, of course, had come prepared with show times.  Just because I’m not into the whole being the boss thing doesn’t mean I don’t understand the concept and given that when someone offers me a choice of three restaurants I’ll likely spend the evening debating the merits of each while we all die of starvation, I figured I should probably be prepared for the date should it take a turn for the movies.  Which it did.  Nailed it! 

Unfortunately, we only had 15 minutes till it started so the rest was a bit of a blur in rushed movements and flustered breath…and zooming cars.  His was fancy.  It was like he was a real grown up and everything.  Maybe 23 ain’t so bad after all.  (by the way, this statement is funnier because I, of course, was driving my parent’s car…given that I’m living with them for the few weeks before I book it to Montreal…and am a writer/grad student…so I’m basically just shy of homeless but well below the poverty line…but I digress…this is supposed to be about our date).

We arrive at the theatre and go in.  The place is packed, the line is lengthy.  If our skin tone was the same I might be worried people would think I was out with my son on a Friday night.  That was obviously a joke, my son wouldn’t be beige ralph lauren sweater.  We get to the counter.  I’m flustered because he doesn’t step up first.  Does he think I’m fucking paying?  I’m all for this whole cougar thing but fuck that noise, son!  Like I said, I’m a writer/grad student…so I’m basically living on hopes and dreams, I don’t even want to pay for myself.  I lean back and ask What movie are we seeing??  I fucking know what movie we’re seeing.  This is his moment to step up.  To use those long skinny 23 year old legs and bust his way to the front and order up two tickets to blah blah blah please but he doesn’t.  And there are like 500 people in line behind us.  Ugh.  Paying for my own coffee AND movie on a first date!?!?  Is this what dating a 23 year old is like because I’m not down with that.  1 for blah blah blah please I say, mortified that my date has left me to foot the bill.  And yes, I did feel the cashier judging me.  The upside…I had enough points saved up from back in the day when I had time to see and could afford movies.  So hurrah.  I got my ticket turned around and bam…he was gone…to another teller.  Which I guess is the normal thing to do but honestly it seemed weird to me, why would he just stay with me and get his ticket right after mine.  Whatever.  Best not think too deeply on it.

I ask if he wants to get any snacks.  He says that he’s fine.  He asks if I’m getting anything.  I say no, I was probably afraid he’d stand there and let me pay and then not only would I be the chubby chick with the super skinny dude looking so odd-couple, but would also be the chick whose date didn’t deem her worthy of being a gentleman.  Awesome.  No thanks.  *hunger grumble*

We get seats.  He wants to sit in the very last row.  I think this is amazing (I get nauseous if I sit too close).  We’ve been rushing around trying to get here in time to see this movie.  I’m hot, I’m mildy sweaty, I’m trying not to breathe heavily.  And then the lights dim.  Sweet, I think, now the music will drown out my breathing until I relax and cool down.  But not so, my friend (reference earlier reference to said negatives of independent-esque films).  The movie is about as fucking quiet as it gets.  No such luck.

Sidebar:  I do this moronic thing before first dates.  I barely eat.  Like somehow the not eating will make me 50 lbs. lighter and when I show up they’ll be confused and like hey…what’s this super model doing here?  And while it’s always possible my beauty blows them away upon first arrival, I think it’s safe to say not having a sandwich really doesn’t make that big of a difference to the first impression I make.  Nonetheless.  It’s a thing I do.  [Note: a thing I plan to stop fucking doing and let me tell you why].  The biggest downfall to this plan isn’t what you might think.  I don’t get light headed, there’s no cranky pants happening, and my body hasn’t given up on me quite yet.  The real problem, the real betrayer, is my stomach.  Because of course, after not eating for awhile, you’re mother fucking hungry and while I can control my brain sometimes like a wizard, my stomach is not on board with the game plan.  She has an attitude and likes to grumble till the cows come home.  And so you can just imagine me sitting there, during this borderline silent movie, terrified of the stomach grumbles that I can only imagine must be audible from Mars.  Worst.

That being said, maybe he can’t hear it because as soon as the lights dim, he’s reaching for my hand.  Which in theory, is adorable.  It’s cute.  It’s something you usually want.  But given that I still haven’t caught my breath from our hustle, you can imagine that it might get a bit clammy or at the very least that I would be terrified it would.  We continue to hold hands for awhile.  We hold hands till I spend more time thinking about the hand holding than the movie.  We hold hands till I’ve worked out 5 different disengagement scenarios.  We hold hands till I can’t fucking take it anymore.

Only I’ve left something out.

Sometime in there I can feel him looking at me.  When it comes to peripheral vision I’m basically Batman.  Or spiderman? My spidey senses are tingling.  Plus he’s only like 10 inches away from me.  It feels like he’s been looking at me for half an hour.  I would guess it’s actually about 10 or 20 seconds.  I know what’s coming.  I’m trying to decide if I want it to.  I decide you only live once and just a few weeks to Montreal and well we did have a good conversation with laughs.  I turn my head.  He kisses me.  It is not great.

In his defense, we are in the most awkward position for a first kiss.  First kisses should not happen in movie theatres.  With arm rests that don’t move.  And when you’re still kind of sweaty.  And you’re nervous.  And awkward.  That you’re on a date with a 23 year old.  Who is like 1/4 of your size.  Even if he does obviously think you’re a babe.  This is not the first kisses you want.  I kiss long enough to let him know that this was an okay thing to do, but I soon pull away.  I did after all, just pay to see this movie and dammit I’m going to see it.

The movie sucks.  My stomach grumbles.  And then it ends.  We talk about the movie.  We thought the same thing.  Almost exactly.  So that was cool.  We walk outside.  It’s dark now and pouring rain.  Neither of us have jackets, it is summer after all.  And I don’t mean a Vancouver sprinkle.  This is not casual Vancouver rain.  This is the rain of movies.  This rain is begging to be made out in.

We walk back to our cars, parked side by side, away from all the others.  We dawdle.  I sense he wants to still hang out.  But given that we’re both students living with our parents (he made a comment earlier about having to park his car on the street given that the 3 car garage in their kerrisdale home was already housing 3 of the 5 cars in his family…but no matter how big his house may be or the length of the hallway separating his parents from us there is no way I would be taking an adventure to see it and like I said I’m at home for a few weeks till I move), there was really no where to go.  Had it been warm and dry, we could’ve gone for a walk on the beach or something, but it was not.  I knew he was likely thinking we could just sit in the car and get it on talk but to be honest, I didn’t really want to.  I’d had enough talk for the first date and if he wanted more chatter, well that’s what second dates are for.  And as for the rest of it…we all know I like my stages and that shit someone always gets skipped through way too quick in a car and since I’m no longer 22 and into power sex (the sex you have simply because it’s fun and exciting and validates that you’re hot)…doing it in a car is not for me.

I want privacy, and freedom…and I really do my best work when I’m not hindered.

That being said, I wasn’t above trying it one more time, to see if his nerves had calmed down and a new position was all he needed.  I stood closer to him.  In the rain.  Said something about well maybe we should call it a night… leaned in and that was really all it took.  And this time, it was much better.  And with every moment of my gentle coaching improved even more.  Unfortunately, as sexy as making out in the rain was, I started to become all too aware of how thin he was (image…his chest was like the width of one boob, and the other one was left out there all on its own), and I could hear cars driving and even people walking and talking.  And so after a little while I pulled away.  We said our goodbyes.  Planned to do it again sometime soon.  Got in our respective cars and drove away.

And by the time I got home I had a text message that read:  Hey!  Had a great time this evening.

 

Vancouver Dating Blog:  Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

Dating a 23 year old…Not Just For 23 Year Olds Anymore

Amenable

 

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t’s Friday night.  I’m ahead of schedule.  And then traffic comes to a stand still.  Because…of course.

I text stuck in traffic, might be a few minutes late, sorry.  He responds no problem…I’m still looking for the place.

At 6:45 I arrive.  I ask, but no worries he tells me I haven’t been here long.  I notice though, he’s been there long enough to get himself  a coffee.  I get one for myself and return to the table.  And that’s how it began.  That was the moment where I found myself, on a Friday night, on a first date, with a 23 year old.

 

We had been talking for weeks.  He seemed really excited.  I couldn’t figure out why it had taken him so long to finally make it happen.  He claimed it was because of school…which I get…trust me.  But nonetheless, I have the patience of a 3 year old Mamma doesn’t like to wait plus who can sustain interest for a stranger that long?!?!.

The texting had been cute, and we did seem to have a lot in common, plus with leaving in a few weeks I figured fuck it, I’m game!  Not to mention the fact that he was so so so young and well, maybe I’d find out what this whole cougar thing was really all about.

 

Prior to meeting he had asked what I wanted to do on our first meeting, saying that he wanted to make sure I was happy.   I suggested shooting pool (my fall back/true love activity) but asked what he wanted to do.

His response…I want to spend the day with you, I’m not so great at pool.  Maybe coffee, dinner, bowling and movie?  Up to you though we can pool as well or instead if you wish.

I suggested we stick with coffee given that we could totally end up detesting each other but said that I wouldn’t make any plans for later in the evening in case we wanted to keep the date going.

And then came the sign that would’ve told me everything, excepting the fact that it went undetected.

I could tell he was excited for our date plus he literally said I’m really looking forward to it…Hope you are too.  And then he added I’m quite amenable in case you haven’t noticed.

Now, in my defense…given the context…you can understand my mistake…I just wasn’t thinking…it didn’t seem very important.  Oh.  Fuck.  Who am I kidding?!?!  I study English Literature and I’m a writer, I have no defense.  I wasn’t paying attention and I misunderstood the word.

See, at the time he said it: amenable …I was thinking that he was excited to see me, that he was friendly, and easy going…amiable…amicable…any of those friendship related terms.  But that’s not at all what he meant.  Dude knew his exact meaning and his word choice was no mistake, he meant to say exactly what he said, he was amenable to me.  Amenable.  Sigh.  Worst.

 

a·me·na·ble/əˈmēnəbəl/

Adjective:
  1. (of a person) Open and responsive to suggestion; easily persuaded or controlled.
  2. (of a thing) Capable of being acted upon in a particular way; susceptible.
Synonyms: obedient – docile – tractable – liable – answerable

 

Worst.  Because see the thing of the thing is…I’m not into that in the slightest.  If anything I want the exact opposite.  Roles switched.  That being said, like I keep saying, over and over again…I’m out of here in a few weeks, so why not be open to new things?  Who knows, maybe I’d find out that after all this time the only thing I love more than being dominated, is to be the one doing the dominating.  Okay, sure, it felt doubtful but I went with it anyway.

 

So there we were, sitting in a starbucks, sipping our coffees and talking.  Good conversation.  Cute conversation.  Sharing funny stories.  Sharing information about ourselves.  Making jokes.  Admittedly I was closing more of the punchlines and he was doing more of the setups but it worked.  There was witty repartee and giggles.

He told me about his family, about Egypt, about school.  I told him about writing (round-about-ly), grad school and moving.  He was definitely cute in a nerdy kind of way.  His profile said he was 6’0, but…and I don’t know if I’m growing, he was slouching, it was the heel in my boots making that huge of a difference, or the fact that he was pencil thin…but he really didn’t feel that much taller than me (standing at 5’7…last time I checked).  Don’t get me wrong, he was definitely taller…just not by the lot that I was expecting.  Nonetheless, the date was going well.  I think.

However, and I feel this is a point I need to stress to the boys the most, but I could be wrong.  SMILE PEOPLE.  Because when you’re sitting directly across from someone at a coffee shop, that’s about the ONLY way she’ll really know you’re feeling her.  At the time, I was more than unsure.  Sure he thought my chatter was great but did he think I was cute? adorable? sexy? hot? attractive?

Best way to figure it out???  Signal that the coffee portion of the date is over and see if he wanted to go to see a movie at the theatre down the road…

So that’s exactly what I did…

I Suggested…if he wanted to…that we could see a movie.

 

Did he say yes?  Did we carry on with the date and go see a movie?  Or he make a lame excuse in order to call it a night and end the date at that???

 

To Be Continued…Here

 

Vancouver Dating Blog:  Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time