I’ve always got on with people older than myself. Right from the days, as a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, I would hang out with thirty-year-olds. (They were often married, and alcohol/nightclubs were usually involved, so I’d assume it wasn’t just my sparkling company!)

As I went through my twenties, women older than me were more interesting – they just had more (sensible talk) to say.
When I met the woman who became my wife, she was seven years older than me. Funnily enough, she still is 🙂 .
I remember in my twenties and thirties, married or no, I often got the feeling that I was being viewed as some kind of predator by some women. Certainly, after I met my wife, they needn’t have worried – my job was always important to me and I’m far more likely to be thinking about a computer problem than a woman, so I was perfectly content to be a one-woman man.
Child-rearing is something else guaranteed to douse the flames of passion. Why anybody ever had two children was beyond me!
Over the years it became amusing if somebody thought “I’m going to be wary of this guy, because he’s going to try and make a move on me”. It even happens now a tiny bit, which is funnier still. This grey-haired old fart who can’t use his arm and can barely walk!
I’m sure there must be something in this – these women (some men too, I guess) have probably spent a lifetime fending off people looking for the next notch on their bedpost, so have probably developed an “I’m not available” manner. I’m sure vanity comes into things too.
I do find, however, that as I get older it happens less and less. I must be less of a threat! The people I meet tend to be older themselves. Frankly, a new partner is the last thing on my mind, and probably their’s too – why would I risk losing the partner I already have, who has every chance (if she’s lucky) of seeing me through the rest of my days? Besides, knowing somebody so well is fun. And I’ve – and most likely they’ve – been through the whole gene-propagation phase and breathed an enormous sigh of relief when my child finally did fly the nest, and my wife and I got our home back once again. So, there’s just more openness with older people, less innuendo.
My wife (a nurse) told me yesterday that here in the UK, STDs among post-menopausal women are at an all-time high. They can’t get pregnant, so they go for it, unprotected, and… 💥
That’s an interesting take.
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I kinda like that juxtaposition – I generally think “why bother?” these days, but my wife threw in that twist at the very end.
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