I mentioned going to a BBQ for the Fourth of July, and it was okay. Most entertaining was the single mom there, a friend-of-a-friend thing who saw me and made it her mission to ruthlessly hit on me, to the point that I think I know how young hot chicks must feel. That wasn’t the first time such a thing has happened, either; I think I read as good single-mom bait because from the outside I seem responsible and reasonably economically successful, and I’m in a somewhat similar boat, so women (and occasionally guys) near my age think it’s “natural” for me to get set up with 30+ single moms. It’s “age-appropriate.”
But I’m not into being “age appropriate” (a concept chicks use to denigrate their younger, hotter rivals) and am very rarely interested. Mind, I’m not automatically and always opposed to chicks who have already reproduced… while the Internet is filled with guys who only bang stunning hotties decades younger than them (all these guys are telling telling the truth without exaggeration), I can sometimes be fine with nailing older chicks who still got it.
Or enough of it to be fun in bed.
One of my long-term, occasional lovers is a woman in her early 40s who is hotter than many 20-year-olds, mostly because the older woman is naturally very slender and was a professional dancer. She still works in dance and reads as late 20s; I think she’s had a little work on her face. She loves sex and it took her about 15 years to get over her sexual inhibitions (as she once said to me, “If I could go back in time, I would be the biggest slut in college.” She gets off, hard, on being called “slut” in bed). I met her through the non-monogamy scene, and she has a husband who tried to hang with her but couldn’t. He’s got no sex appeal, so she does her thing on her own and he can do his thing but doesn’t have what it takes. I think he has some sort of girlfriend, but she doesn’t bring him to events.
Fine with me. Another case of mis-matched libido. I get what I want and don’t worry about the other guy, or even her main boyfriend. Major point is that she has a good body type for getting older and hasn’t let herself go. She also has nice, goofy, non-bitchy energy, and that’s refreshing compared to many of her peers. She’s almost divorced her husband a couple times but didn’t quite get there, though I don’t know the exact details and really don’t need to.
So, I’m not such an aesthete that I can’t get behind the right mom, but the one at the BBQ was too fat and likely old. I did my usual in that situation: didn’t say too much, but when I did talk, I only talked about lifting, fitness, and nutrition: conversations normal people find very boring, which helps to explain why so many live the lives they do. At the end I told her she can come to the gym with me sometime. I even told her to look me up on Facebook. This one may show up, based on her eagerness.
Somewhere around age 30, hanging out with people my own age got much worse. At age 20 or 25, hanging out with peers brought innumerable sexual opportunities. Now, I have to seek those opportunities out, because they don’t arise by hanging out with people my own age. At the same time, I can’t really hang with packs of 25-year-olds. I mean, it’s not impossible, but for generic 25-year-olds I’m the “old guy” in the room, and that’s usually not a great place to be.
Everyone (actually, I mean “every woman”) thinks that I should be their divorced friend’s first stop. I’m attractive enough to be a catch but not so attractive as to be intimidating. And most of my corporate and vanilla friends don’t know much about my other lives, in game and non-monogamy. Some do… with enough drinks, I’ll let the dirty laundry out and yet make things plausibly deniable the next morning. Talk a little. But that wasn’t the situation at the BBQ. Most the guests were well over 30 or under 10. Not a good place for finding chicks. I’m sure this isn’t the last time I’ll find myself near a predatory single mom or that one of my friends will attempt to set me up with one.
I’m not desperate or old enough to go for single moms. Maybe in ten years I might be. But single moms see me and think, “it could happen.”