Here's to You Mrs. Robinson: Why I Could Get Used to Dating Younger Men.

If you would have ever told me six months ago I would find myself sitting across from a 26 year old in a brightly colored diner sipping Strawberry Malts on a Friday night I would have rolled my eyes at you and probably added a snort/laugh in for good measure. Don’t get me wrong, like every other blue blooded American girl I love myself a good diner and Strawberry Malt what I have never even considered before was younger men. Because dammit I wanted stability and no drama/games, I wanted an adult relationship. I kept this mantra in my head for months. Months of going out on bland dates. Months of not hearing from people for days at time. Months of last minute changes. And yes months of non making out (refer to “I have a nice rack but no one wants to touch it” article).

So imagine my surprise as I sit giggling and stealing curly fries from this young gent, who later will happily rest his head on my butt and steal kisses from me during commercial breaks and not make fun of me as I sit glued to the Sci-fi channel watching Battlestar Galactica. And guess what? I’m happy yes there I said it: I am happy.

My younger man went to Prom with my sister. Yes I am serious. As in I sat there bored and married at my mother’s house as he rolled up in punk attire and black eyeliner (hey this was early 2000’s give him a break) to pick her up. I am sure somewhere I have a picture of him and her smiling bravely for the camera, two friends off to show the world how truly unique they were. He was 19, I was 24. I would see him from time to time in the years that would come around the small town I grew up in and we would smile and do the required head nod, casual acquaintances.

Flash forward 7 years later and true to cliché we meet again via MySpace. I think nothing of chatting with him for a few days and when he asks, even meeting up for dinner. In my head I am thinking Del Taco and sitting on the couch watching some Family Guy but hey it’s a Wednesday night and it’s better than doing laundry, so I am setting standards low. Nowhere in this equation is dating mentioned and the possibility of making out is so far off into space that it would take hundreds of years even at light speed to reach it (sorry sci-fi reference I blame the previously mention Battlestar Galactica). So imagine my surprise when we eat at a lovely adult restaurant and when the check, which is probably in the fifty buck range, comes, he slips the server his card without missing a beat. I mean come on, I went on date the week before with a 37 year old commodities broker who drove a brand new 3 series BMW and whose Sushi check with met was twenty eight dollars and we went dutch. He takes me to cocktails afterwards and writes on my to-go container “My date is the hottest ever”. I start to blush a little. Later he tries to kiss me, I shoot him down, in my head telling myself, “He went to Prom with your sister”.

I’m driving home and he texts me, “When can we hang out again?” and just like that, I know: Maybe nothing will come of this but already I know how I stand with him. He wants to see me again. There is no four day wait. There is no guessing. It’s all there and it’s all upfront. We go out again that Friday night and this time I let him kiss me, Prom be damned!

And three weeks later he’s still here, cute text messages, almost daily calls, weekly Friday night dates and that ever present debit card for every meal and yeah the Family Guy and fart humor raises it’s 26 year old head from time to time but the “I miss you” text messages power right through it. And thus through getting over my ageism I find what I have been looking for, for a long time: A genuine person.

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