Beautiful, depraved

Intimacy. Debauchery. Irreverence.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

I like the old ones

I’ve had an “over 50 only” rule for many years and it has served me quite well.

I like the king. A man who has made something of himself. He has a quiet confidence borne of years of victory, of having stretched himself, proved his mettle, and it’s now something that infuses his being and needs no advertising. So previously baffled by the erratic female in his younger years, he has begun to understand women. I always tell people, it’s really quite simple. Telephone her often and make love to her frequently. Settle all her demons and open her up to love. She must feel your presence with her, a protective shield to her opening. And it is precisely this love and openness that energizes a man. Something he eventually realizes he desperately needs. But he usually doesn’t realize it until he’s over 45. Yes, men can love before that, but it’s not the same – at least it hasn’t been for me. Until a man of that age really loved me, I would have never known.

There have been moments where I have faltered, though. Moments where I have let myself fall under the spell of a beautiful, noble prince. A moment of weakness, thinking, wouldn’t it be nice to be with a man who has the same cultural references I do? Someone whose belly is as taut as mine? It’s an indulgence, really. Being deeply loved and cherished cannot compare to someone also really liking Death Cab for Cutie. (Although you’d be surprised what the old guys like ;) It’s nice for a moment or two, an evening at most, and then I realize what I’m missing. I can sense his lack of embrace – it’s an energetic cape that the king weaves around me; he wants me to know he is mine and for me he will do anything. The young ones see that as a sign of weakness and aren’t secure enough yet to offer it.

Three of my favorite and most prolific lovers have been 50,55 and, would you believe it, 65. An occasional foray into younger flesh will satisfy my cravings when they arise. The same way that I will go to a night club every six months just to know that I’m not missing anything. It satisfies my appetite and I forget about it for about half a year.

Having said that, I’m still open to wisdom and adventure wherever I can find it. Perhaps one day it will surprise me in the guise of firmer flesh, but until then... I like the old ones.

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