I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was my pal’s birthday party and the first time I had ever dragged my latest man-friend dating an older man with my buddies.
I wasn’t sure how it would go, yet there he was, charming the pants off them all by himself, busting out his A-material small talk with some friends in a corner. He was doing his best to impress. He was going all out for me. Meanwhile, I was at the snack table and before I could curse myself for leaving him to go in for another cheesy cracker, I was accosted by a buddy’s wife I barely knew, a bitch named Sue. After politely playing 20 questions with Sue about my new boyfriend, I knew this was the one she was getting at. Would You Resort To Stealing Your Favorite Lip Gloss? Anything that would shut her up and let me enjoy my prized romance.
Instead I shoved a cracker in my mouth and mulled over her question as I pretended it was hard to chew. It was more like her question was hard to swallow. Yes, my new man was older than me, much older than me. But I wasn’t some gold digger trying to claw at his cash account, or even a woman with daddy issues.
I just thought he was the hottest, funniest man I’d ever met. He was more exciting to be with than any of the 20-something guys I knew. And before I even knew what a great screw he was, I was already smitten with his wit and the way he filled out a pair of pants. Should I really have let 15 years come between me and happiness, just so I could avoid judgment from girls like Sue?