Tag Archives: older women

Patina

I no longer have regular TV. Meaning I don’t have cable or network television. I can’t just flip on the box and watch whatever is on. Which means I’ve joined the legions of Netflix binge-watchers. I’ve gone through every available episode of Orange is the New Black, House of Cards and Mad Men. I’ve finished the complete Breaking Bad. Soooo good! I’m as caught up as I can be on Downton Abbey and Walking Dead and sat through the first two seasons (do they even call them that anymore?) of American Horror. My current obsession is Sons of Anarchy. I watch at least two or three episodes a day. Er, night.

SPOILER ALERT! If you have any intention of watching SOA, stop reading now!

Two nights ago I watched “Laying Pipe,” in which the Opie character is killed off. I wept. This could, of course, be attributed to my current state of mind. And heart. But apparently it struck other viewers as equally sad. The show’s producer, Kurt Sutter, was questioned about this plot twist and explained himself here. Even the actors were profoundly upset by the character’s death. If you haven’t watched the show and have no intention to, I’ll tell ya: they kill people off at a pretty quick clip. Like one person episode. Or every few minutes. It’s bloody fucking brutal.

It also has a Shakespearean beauty. Even while the characters are hurtling toward their presumably violent ends, their passion is riveting. The passion, for me, became even more riveting when Jimmy Smits joins the cast in Season 5. Waking up after a drunken one-night stand, Gemma pulls a gun on “Nero Padilla”  as he’s coming out of the bathroom. Their subsequent conversation — and sober reacquaintance — had me hanging on every word. He’s running an escort service and when Gemma questions his interest in her while surrounded by “young pussy” (or something to that effect), he says, “I prefer a patina on my precious metals.” Gulp. So good. As my friend Sandra wondered, where are all the guys like that on OKCupid?

I’ve complained before about 50-something men not only wanting 30-something women but getting them. I guess if a guy is fit and financially solvent, why shouldn’t he be fucking a trophy chick? Most women over 50 not only can’t hold the interest of 30-something men but wouldn’t want to. We want a patina on our precious metals as well. Of course, we can do without the 100 extra pounds and bald pate. Just as much as men can do without saggy breasts, I suppose. Who likes to be reminded of their mortality? Talk about a turn-off…

I see “older” couples and marvel at how much older the women look than the men. And am I being “ageist?” How is this possible? Is it that when people are coupled, the women age faster? Care less about their appearance? In the world of being single and “older,” the dynamic is decidedly different. The women — myself included — do everything they can to maintain their youth. At least within their means. I’d be in South America getting a facelift in a New York minute if I could afford it. Actually, an everything lift would be pretty great! We hit the gym and wear clothes that highlight our assets. No “mom” jeans. I don’t know anyone who has succumbed to their grey hair, coupled or single. 

We drag our asses out to as many social situations as we can stomach. We smile and nod, shake hands and listen intently to the nervous, let-me-impress-you ramblings of strangers like virginal schoolgirls. All in the hopes of a second date. Or being asked out on a first one. Sigh. If only Kurt Sutter could write me into his next show. I may fantasize about Opie but I’d gladly accept the patina of Jimmy Smits!

Cougars and Encroachers

Well I’ve finally figured out why so many young men are contacting me: “Extreme Cougar Wives.” I saw a preview of the TLC special on Nightline. I feel an increase of youngsters cruising my profile coming. I have a feeling they want to turn it into a “Real Cougars of NYC” or some such shit. On HuffingtonPost you can watch a clip of Jude (53) and her partner Kevin (21). The show follows three couples. The women are 53, 65 and 76 and their men range from 21 to 28.

I gotta say, I’m feeling a bit torn about this. Part of what is making this show so sensational is the May-December age gap. Have you ever seen a TLC special about men who marry women less than half their age? I didn’t think so. It’s embarrassing that it’s such a big deal. But from the preview I saw, that 76-year-old woman is a little…creepy. I admire Hattie’s verve and her youthful approach to life. I would never deny her — or anyone — what they enjoy. But the juxtaposition of her decidedly elderly appearance and that of her very young lover is jarring, to say the least. I’ve hesitated to meet for drinks — and possibly wind up in bed — with guys half my age because I shudder at the idea of my saggy flesh pressed against their firm…flesh. Mind you, it has happened. But not what I would call deliberately. More like drunkenly. Does it matter?

Unfortunately I don’t get TLC so I can’t watch the show. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to post this in time for you to watch. [I didn’t.] ButI’ll certainly try to Hulu it or whatever tomorrow.

And speaking of “old,” I’m watching “The Good Wife” and Stockard Channing is supposed to be Juliana Marguilies’s mom. I’ll just say that Hollywood women have all so altered their faces that NO ONE can play anyone’s mom anymore! Harumph!

In other news, I spent this afternoon with a charming “older” gentleman, a guy I’d contacted online once or twice. I was notified that he was “Local” by the OKCupid app and since he lives in Oakland, I emailed him to see if he was, indeed, visiting. Our getting together was somewhat spontaneous. We strolled through the garage flea market, visited Leo Villareal’s “Buckyball” in Madison Square Park and ogled the amazing merchandise at ABC Carpet and Home. When we parted, I’d expected a kiss, a real kiss, since he’d been encroaching upon my space all day, a proclivity he’d not only admitted to but discussed. Alas, he went for a peck on my cheek instead. I walked away wondering if that was a tactic to inspire more passion. And perhaps more action if we were to meet again. I’m not sure if it worked that way or not. At least if we do meet again, and if there is more passion, I won’t have to worry about being the wrinklier one!

Blocking Body Shots

So. Really. Are there a million younger guys out there just chomping at the bit to chomp on older women’s bits? I have been fending off men half my age for weeks now.

If only men who are actually my age were so eager. In a perverse paradox of online seduction, old men want younger women and young men want older women. The problem with this upside-down dynamic is that sometimes old dudes marry blushing trophy brides. The converse is rarely true. Not that I’d want that. Ack.

What do I make of Metro 2010? He’s 31:
Ok… so I’ll have to charm you:) Those lips look mighty kissable…:)
How many shots before I have you naked in my bed kissing every inch of you?
Sorry but that body and eyes have me mesmerized. I wanna see you in that bikini up close:)
I wanna hear that voice. I bet it’s so sexy. I’d worship that body:) massage, kissing, licking, all of it!:)
i wanna do some body shots off of u mmm

And beyond what to make of him, why did I encourage him? I must’ve told him 10 times — well, every time I responded to his overtures — to visit me at the bar. Where I guess there actually might be a chance of him doing body shots off of me!

I spent 18 transatlantic hours chatting with a 21-year-old in Bristol about my tattoos, my marriage and what I look for in a guy. I’d say I was imparting wisdom but that’s hardly the case. I hardly imparted anything!
Which of your tats is your favourite?
When did you get your 1st tat?
What made you decide to get one?
May i ask why it ended?
Did you feel liberated when it did?
What kind of men are attractive to you?

We weren’t exactly discussing thermo dynamics. At least there was no chance of him showing up to, you know, do body shots off of me. Okay, I gotta go disappoint another youngster, this time from LA; he claims he could “get me to like him.” Uh-huh. To what fucking end?

Age. Ranging.

Richard, a 67-year-old, contacted me: intimidating you seem to me, as probably am I. where in NYC are you? What do you edit? or does your moniker misrepresent. My exhibitionism is limited to swimming and springboard diving. 
may I please hear from you? 

His profile was interesting enough, though he lives outside the city. And, you know, he’s 67. I responded: I don’t find you intimidating. Perhaps a bit beyond my age range. And I have no exhibitionist tendencies. 
Happy to meet for coffee or a beer but no possibilities of romance. [And don’t think for one second I didn’t consider making a Yoda wisecrack!]

He quickly wrote back with: can’t dispute Abby, sorry. Which made me feel bad. I told him there was no need to apologize, it was all good. But… Is it better to just meet every guy? I mean, EVERY guy? Even if there’s no chance of romance? It seems like a waste. I’m ready to be proven wrong about low “match” percentages or photos that don’t immediately appeal to me or even men who don’t have a grasp of grammar. Or spelling. But when someone is so much older than me that I’d find myself worrying about them dropping dead on a date, well… What could I have done differently?

I noticed an intriguing photo — a guy with his dog — so I emailed him: Ack. Yeah I’m way outside your age range. And I could barely read your profile cause I was blinded by that awesome shot of you and your dog. Blah blah blah email me if you feel inspired. After a few back and forths, during which he told me he’d met me, years before, back in 1993, I got the smackdown: Unfortunately, You are a wee bit outside my age range. But I remember you as stunningly groovy, if that counts for anything : )

Oof. Guess I’ve gotta be able to take what I dish out. I was gonna reply with something along the lines of “Just FYI, my last boyfriend was younger than you,” but that would’ve sounded creepy cougar-ish. Instead, I slunk away, my tail between my legs: I suppose it does. Oh well. Thanks for responding. And he shot back: Good luck in your search! Ack. That’s my see-ya-later line!

Somehow, in my head, I’ve managed to convince myself that while there’s a staggering age gap between me, at 53, and some 63-year-old retired dude who lives in the ‘burbs, I haven’t had as much success finding difficulty with the span between me — still vibrant and active and living in the big city — and guys in a similar situation who are 10 years or so younger than me. I regularly turn down 20-somethings (and, truth be told, 30-somethings) because I do think that’s a bit too much of a difference. The question is, how many years are too many years? I hate to get caught up in the numbers game and I suppose there are as many mature young guys as there are immature old guys. It all really comes down to mutual attraction and mutual interests, both of which transcend age. But those are tough to discern when you’re reduced to an online profile that telegraphs how old  you are before any other information.