The Older Lover

The Older Lover

The older guy. I’ve heard about this type; the experienced older gent who sweeps a younger lass off her feet and gives her the ride of her life. I’ve never actually known anyone who has experienced the older guy ride so I never knew the ins and outs of the situation. And now I find myself having to figure it out first hand.


I met Mr. Vanilla at a bar on a Saturday night while out with a friend. I’m calling him Mr. Vanilla because from the outside, that’s what he appears to be. He’s an attorney, very plain looking, his personality is friendly but there’s nothing distinct about it. He’s someone who I normally wouldn’t be attracted to in the least. He’s also 15 years older than me. I’ve always viewed May/December romances as kind of gross and promised myself I’d never go after someone who had more than 10 years on me. Yet here I am, breaking my own promise without a second thought. He bought my friend and I drinks, we had a bit of tipsy flirty conversation and at the end of the night, shared a quick but hot kiss.


Perhaps I should back up and give a summary of my history to help better understand where I’m coming from. I’m recently divorced from a person whom I was involved with since I was 19 years old. Therefore, any other sexual experiences I’ve had took place when I was a teen. To guys my age, I was a seductress. I had little flings that often turned into firecracker relationships – they started hot and heavy then burned out quickly. Boredom happens. No harm, no foul. However, I was never sexually involved with anyone that I didn’t have at least a bit of romantic feeling for. I liked being in control, I liked being craved, I liked being intimidating. With Mr. Vanilla, I’m experiencing none of this.


I think I chose him because he seemed so unassuming. He’s older, so of course he has more years of experience than me. At 41, he’s never been married and has no children. I figured that I was flirting with someone who just hasn’t met the right person. It never occurred to me that I was dealing with a perpetual bachelor. I figured that because he was so shy, my fierce sexuality would liberate him. It didn’t occur to me that he’s already liberated, and enjoys his liberation so much he stays single so he can experience that liberation on a steady basis. This situation has been a mindfuck for me. Everything I thought I knew is turning out to be very incorrect. I’m discovering that instead of a powerful seductress, I’m nothing more than a naïve girl. This shouldn’t be surprising because in reality, I haven’t really experienced much. But to me, this self-realization has hit me like a ton of bricks. 


So back to the good stuff. We’ve had 3 hot and heavy make-out sessions. He’s different from guys my age in that he doesn’t rush straight for the sex. He savors kissing, really savors it. I’ve never been kissed the way he kisses me. There’s no pressure for sex because he knows he’s going to get it. There’s also no fear of intimacy. He knows exactly where to kiss and exactly what to do. There’s nothing he’s done that I haven’t liked. It has been a new experience for me to delight in physical pleasure with the total absence of emotional attachment. In reality, I don’t know him at all. What I’ve learned about him shows me that we’re horribly incompatible on a personal level. We could never date. But here I am, just enjoying it. “Going with the flow” as he likes to call it. I expressed my amazement at this connection without a connection and asked him if he’s ever experienced it before. He has! Lots of times! I told him, no wonder you’re not married! Who would settle for one person when you can have this all the time with different people? Then suddenly, I felt uncomfortable. He really IS more experienced than me. The roles have reversed - I’m now the intimidated. I’m not seducing, I’m being seduced. I’m not craved, I’m the craver.


I drove home last night from his place with all these thoughts flooding my mind. Although we have yet to actually have sex, this is the epitome of what casual sex is. This is the definition of a “hook-up.” Am I ok with this? We’re using each other, but not in a malicious way. He’s not the asshole love-em-and-leave-em type. He’s very honest about where he’s coming from, but there’s no pressure. “You make the rules” is what he keeps telling me. At least I have THAT.


I understand why flings don’t last very long. Once you are no longer fulfilled by physical pleasure alone, you either become bored or want an emotional attachment. I’m really not looking forward to either outcome. If I do become bored, then I’ll have to tell him “ok, I’m bored now, thanks for the good times.” He has no emotional attachment to me, so I know it won’t cause him pain, but it still feels…. rude? What if he bores of me before I bore of him? My ego will surely be bruised. I can’t see myself wanting an emotional attachment to him, but I CAN see myself wanting an emotional attachment from someone. I love love. I love romance. I love emotional intensity. I have a feeling that casual sex is not for me and that in the end I will leave this experience feeling a bit empty. I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish I could separate love from sex. I wish I could be a Samantha. But I just don’t think that’s me.


So why am I continuing with this? Perhaps there’s a bit of masochism involved, but really it’s more for the experience. Life is to be lived. I am actually learning a lot about human nature, men, pleasure, myself. I will carry this experience with me and use it as a reference point. In life, if there is no pain, there is no gain. In leaving my comfortable yet stagnant marriage, this is what I signed up for. It’s time to put my big girl panties on enter the real world, as scared shitless as I am to do so.