So…the thought of dating a guy my own age often kinda creeps me out because in my mind, guys my age are…dads. Not in the sense of having children of their own (not all of them even would) but in the sense of being old and unsexy like my own dad.
And it suddenly occurs to me that I might think this way because I moved to a different city when I was in my early 20s and my dad would have been in his 40s, and I stayed incommunicado for like half a decade and even now I only see my parents once every few years. Therefore the image of what a “dad” looks like got frozen in my head at 45ish. Whereas if I’d stayed in regular contact with him, my concept of a “dad” might have aged along with my actual dad.
Kind of the inverse of single parents who feel squicked by the idea of fucking someone the same age as their child (even if their child is an adult, I mean) and the squick-age keeps on moving up as their kid gets older.
Anyway. The date with the 40yo was…I dunno. I didn’t feel the spark I’d wanted to. Dude was pretty attractive (not nearly as haggard as a lot of guys our age) but I’m usually into goths and nerds and offbeat types and he comes across pretty much as a dudebro, only more introspective. The conversation was pleasant but it did not take flight. And near the end the conversation just died – there was nothing to say to each other. And yet he’d given me a cheek-kiss hello when I first arrived, surreptitiously checked out my figure when I got up to go to the bathroom, and said some flirty things (I think I asked him how he felt about being bitten really hard or something and he said he wasn’t sure so “we’ll find out when we get there.” And that was right before the talking ran dry, not something he said at the beginning and then maybe he soured on me in the meantime…).
I wondered whether the silence came partly from sexual tension (mostly on his end, but I do have a love of the chase that causes me to start daydreaming about successfully making a move on a guy even if I’m not actually that into him). Also I wondered whether kissing him would fire up some chemistry that previously hadn’t been there for me. So when he drove me home I leaned across the car and kissed him goodnight. Very, very nice kisses – warm and soft and lingering, no tongue. My libido is all fucked up lately but if it weren’t I think I would’ve felt some stirrings. And I murmured “text me” and left his car. He did that gentlemanly thing of not pulling away until he saw that I’d gotten inside, but he didn’t text me when he got home or anything. So I don’t really know how he’s feeling about all of this and don’t think I care enough to follow up. If he asks me out again, I’ll go, because there are things I liked about him and sometimes it takes a while for me to start diggin’ a guy. If he doesn’t ask me out again, I guess that’s that.