I Miss Banging 25-Year-Old Dudes That Don’t Care About Me

Now that I have accomplished all my clickbait-title goals for the current millennium, let me explain- it’s not the actual banging that I miss. Much as I enjoyed the banging portion, this is not what makes me nostalgic. I am having more sex than I was having before, and that sex is of a depth I was unable to plumb with my multiple partners, they of the ubiquitous cummings and goings. And yet I pine…

It turns out that dating young was a social activity for me. I like to be around younger people. Though I have kids, they are still a little too young for me to be myself around, if any parent ever can. I liked hanging out with men (and some women) in their twenties because they are up on the music, culture and mindset of people not yet crippled by fear and shitty life experiences. I have a young, vibrant being, and want to be around people whose lives are not as regimented as people’s my age or older. I am a free spirit who wants to be around other free spirits. Also, turns out, I am a bit of a predator. 

It emerges that I was feeding, vampiric, on their tiny little hopes and dreams. It sounds kind of patronizing when ya put it that way doesn’t it? Much as I said I respected these “men” and treated them as such, I realize that in dating “man-children” I was enjoying being around people I didn’t have to take too seriously. And when seen through their eyes (in a dimly-lit circumstance) I realized that I looked far more accomplished and interesting than I really am. At the same time, because I was insisting on keeping things fairly superficial, I was also not looking for them to take me seriously. Please don’t take me seriously because then you might actually rely on me, and I can’t handle that. Just a hilarious housewife looking for kicks every second Thursday of the month tee hee. Yep, that’s me. 

When you have been hurt. Deeply. When life disappoints you in creative fucked up ways you could not even have anticipated. When you see bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people, it gives you a certain cynicism I have tried to avoid. And yet I have been cynical since I was seven, because I was brought up by Russian Jews and we are fatalistic, and maybe just born that way. I only have one tattoo, but maybe I should have gone with “Expect the worst.” 

When Someone appears who truly wants to love you, who already does, how do you let them? When you already had a love as pure as any love story on stage and screen, and that love got lost and corrupted and is now just a bunch of texts about kids’ sporting equipment and alimony checks, how do you allow yourself to believe that someone could love you without suffocating your life force? I was using people to fill my hole (not that one) and it was working quite well thank you very much, because the hole is so deep and cavernous, only hundreds of pounds of young flesh will do. I’m not saying it’s not creepy, I’m just sharing… 

I’m really struggling right now. Every day is hard. I don’t know if I have “depression” or “anxiety” or just good old-fashioned money problems. But life is so fucking hard, y’all. As I begin to approach the world with an open heart, I can barely stand all the broken connections in my life, let alone leaving my kids for days at a time, which I used to cherish. I am thawing out and the result is a messy puddle on the floor. And all I know how to do, is show you my puddle, hoping that perhaps you will show me yours…  

 

10 comments

  1. Nicely stated. Being a somewhat aged fellow of russian-jew extraction myself, i get the glass-half-empty default. And it is SO difficult to…deny. Early homeostasis be a bitch. And its nice to see you coping with your own self-questioning of your “youth” movement. Youth IS life, and that is the undeniable appeal. Why would one not want to cling to freshness? In whatever form. BUT, a disconnect presents for me, as i am wiser now. I see the cluelessness in certain youth. Not their fault. But i feel a certain dimishment in choosing to “hang” with youth…for my own holding-on-to-my youth’s sake. As if I am now inauthentic. Having stated this, my senses are certainly stimulated when i do hang with the young. Anything to stimulate libido. Oy, life…

    • Oy life indeed. Thank you for this thoughtful response. I feel that at a certain point there are just too many things to un-see or un-know. I can seek the company of young people without having to swap bodily fluids. There’s a certain point where the clinging to youth is just not cute. Just ask the over-injected over-frozen faces in this town…

      • I always flash to Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil” when I see those faces. I wonder what those (mostly) women are thinking when they have botex’d lips the size of Jabba-the-hut, all else seeming/remaining relatively normal. Do they not see their own distortion? I mean, at least I change the colors of my toupee(s)…;

  2. Interesting. I feel very much the same about my hole (not that hole either) and while I have twenty something children (that I birthed) I have no desire to hang out with them or their friends. Others though -especially with full wilderness beards- I stare at until it’s obvious and embarrassing. In my years of experience (meaning trysts) I haven’t done that youth and, well, it’s not robbing my cradle is it? 😉

  3. First and foremost I love you. You already know that. And I love your writing when I get an opportunity to read it. This once I am responding just to offer a slight suggestion as a woman older than you by a few. (45). “Free spirit” is not synonymous with “young”. I am on a crusade to change the negativity surrounding the word “old”. Old is a fucking fantastic word. I say this only so that you possibly consider, old can be embraced, enjoyed, creative and new. And by embracing it, I have found happiness that I didn’t even know existed. With that said, these are all labels and labels are poison to a truly free spirited person. Old is good. Young is good. All is good with the right mindset. Love you girl! Oooopss. That youthful term just negated my whole point. Love you woman! Ooopss that’s too P.C. Love you lady! Wait. Too prissy. Love you sexy beast! Ummm…. probably accurate, but I haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing it myself first hand so it’s presumptuous. Fuck it. Love YOU.

    • Hahaha It’s YOU! And love you too, sexy mama? How about we just settle on that term? You’ve always had more patience than I with the elderly, that I remember, likewise with the passage of time and her foibles. I agree with you 100% about spirit – spirit is ageless, and you have it in fucktons. As I embrace love I find myself happier than I can remember being. And I know you know about that one too… XOXO

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