Who knew a simple prairie maiden, venturing into dating for the first time in ten years, would find herself becoming a cougar after nine months into courtship? When I began my foray into dating I did it with a prairie woman's sensibility, wanting to find a nice man to woo me and maybe become an occasional companion. The last thing I wanted was to date much younger men-older men about five years younger at the most seemed more suitable for me. Younger men have held no interest with me-well, except for Timothy Olyphant, Anson Mount, and Joe Manganiello. Besides, I am not cougar material: I do not have the svelte figure, own Jimmy Choo high heels, and have a vamp-like demeanor. I am a seasoned prairie woman with a curvy figure who wears regular clothes, practical shoes, and acts like an intelligent professional woman.
What happened? A nice, 40 something year old man from Minnesota. But I probably would not have considered this jeune homme seriously had it not been for his sincerity, wittiness, and wily persistence. The flimsy list of considerations I had amassed became thinner and thinner as I became enamored with his many charms. Whatever he had, he became harder and harder to resist. He had a refreshing innocence about him. The more he spoke to me the more he reached me. This was the first time I had fallen under the spell of this poised younger man.
What may have started as a passing fancy became a re-evaluation of kismet in my life. Though my Minnesota ad specifically targeted men in their fifties, my jeune homme answered with such an honest and persuasive passion, I kept writing to him for my own amusement. Before I knew it, he had cleverly seduced me with his warm, genuine, and intelligently-worded, sweet messages. He was no ordinary jeune homme: he had a savoir faire I have rarely seen in men twenty years his senior.
But there is a preamble to this story. It was also my first visit back home in years, my birthday week, and having to deal with my deathly ill cousin. Before we met, I saw my cousin in the ICU. He had been critical. Seeing this man I loved so close to death transformed me. In a flash I thought if I switched places with my cousin what would I regret? I thought about how routinized my life had become by my investment in being safe. Staring death in the face is a confrontation of the choices one makes now. Whatever considerations I had about meeting my jeune homme went out the window. I was ready to throw caution to the wind.
When we finally met in Minnesota on my birthday, he was more handsome than I had imagined. But what really impressed me was his naive honesty, sincerity, and tender touch. We began by sipping on champagne and talking about all sorts of subjects. Quickly we felt at ease with one another. Before I knew it we were kissing passionately on the bed. The way he kissed me made me feel like Cinderella after the glass slipper fit. I was surprised how smooth and tantalizing he was. Making love with him was a slice of pure joy. He gave me the best present I've ever gotten on a birthday-afternoon sex with champagne, flowers and whipped cream. Even though weeks have passed, he continues to correspond with me, telling me how blissful that day was for him, too. His emails are so earnest and affective. Oh, how I would like another day with this delight.
When I returned from my Minnesota vacation, I began my search for a companion here in my west coast town. Enter my second jeune homme, a forty-six year old Virgo man originally from the upper peninsula of Michigan. At 6'4, he is tall, good-looking, a simple kind of prairie man. Unlike my Minnesota suitor, this former Michigan man is more rough-hewn, rugged, and not as courtship adept. However, he does have the upper Midwest politeness, an attentive disposition, and a sweet sincerity about him. When I asked him why he would want a relationship with a woman who is much older, his response was that is his preference. After his divorce, he found older women less dramatic and more sensuous. How right he is.
Being with younger men is perplexing to me. Maybe I am too new to the courtship game or just out of sync with the new dating world order. This does not fit my paradigm for aging. Then again, nothing I have done thus far has conformed to how a seasoned 'respectable' woman would behave.
But in my wildest dreams, I never thought I would act on my personal list of fifty shades of gray. It is surprising, unexpected, fun, and audacious. I feel I am undergoing a personal renaissance.
For years men have dated much younger women without anyone giving it a second thought. Historically, women have never enjoyed this kind of freedom to enjoy their sexuality. Now I am breaking the mold. Maybe I am the newly reinvented seasoned woman.
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