About a week and a half ago, this cute guy in his late twenties from AFF and I decided to meet for coffee after work. I was in a shit mood after a rough day (my friends often suck at being friends) and was so exhausted by the time I met him, I doubt I was good company. We met at the local Borders bookstore and he was cuter than his pictures and a much better conversationalist in person than online. I had planned to stay for a short time and then head out to wallow in my misery, but ended up staying a couple of hours talking about movies and books and kinda sorta flirtin' with the cute boy.
Last week we go out for drinks and a bite to eat. He really impresses me with his respectful demeanor and just utter sweetness. I have friends who don't show me that sort of respect or kindness most of the time, and the soon-to-be-ex-husband pretty much never did. He's nice to talk to, he's adorable, I want to fuck him and he wants to fuck me. Ladies and Gentleman, we have an excellent candidate for Fuck Buddy!
In the course of conversation, something about school comes up and he mentions what year he graduated. Hrmm, if he's 27 and he graduated in that year then he had to be held back 3 or 4 years...I am working at the math in my head. I realize that is highly improbable so I ask rather cautiously, "How old are you?" He laughs and says, "23." (*gasp*) My brain starts scrambling; OK, I think, maybe he's turning 24 soon and then since my birthday is in 3 weeks, we're only 10 years apart which isn't that bad. No dice, sistah, he just turned 23.
I can rationalize anything to myself, it's either one of my best traits or one of my worst, depending on what day it is. Look, I tell myself, he looks 27 or so, you enjoy hanging out with him, so what if your nephew is older than him and he likes the Jets? That's when he started rubbing my thigh under the table and I promise you I didn't need to rationalize a fucking thing after that.
This past weekend I went over to his apartment, and now I am a firm believer in the older women/younger men thing. I can admit when I am wrong about something, and I was wrong about my stupid five year rule. This boy has that youthful enthusiasm of the not-yet-jaded and energy to spare. Every time we stopped to catch our breath, I would still be catching mine and he would be ready to go again. I don't think I have been fucked like that since...well...since I was 23.