Archive for the ‘Middle Age’ Category
When a “normal, well-adjusted” young woman sees an older man dating someone her age [or is hit on by an older man], she often dismisses the move as “creepy.”
But none of this has anything whatsoever to do with the man. It’s the woman’s frustration with her own personal life.
She’s either single and frustrated, or unhappy with someone in her life, and hopes this kind of thing doesn’t become a routine.
She’s trying to protect her space in time from outside interference.
If I told you I didn’t understand this reaction I’d be lying. I did the same thing as a young man when trying to defend my world from older affluent men who seemed to come and go at will with women my age.
I wasn’t there yet, and there was nothing I could do about it.
It was what it was, and I couldn’t afford to compete.
As for the women who refuse to consider it as a viable alternative to younger men, the following applications of “creepy” are as follows:
1] Young women use it against their fathers for dating women their age — and against their fathers’ friends who hit on them.
2] Older women use it against older men who won’t date them because they’re no longer young.
3] Feminist yoga Nazis use it against men because any weapon against men is a good thing.
This is the backlash all older men face when bucking the system.
It’s also blatant discrimination, sanctioned by all women for the reasons enumerated.
All men are fair game. Not that we haven’t always been the scapegoat for all of the world’s nightmares. Thank God we don’t have menstrual cycles or the shit would really hit the fan.
You definitely do not want to fuck with testosterone.
Just let us buy into our own delusions for a solid week every month and there would be nothing left to talk about.
So back to the “creep” thing, if dating women half our age is “creepy” then tell younger women to stop dating us.
There are many reasons they do it, including the ones you imagine, so stop wasting your breath.
Do women actually think age-appropriate relationships come with money back guarantees?
Check out the latest divorce statistics — or how about the number of single women running around with kids they can’t afford because their age-appropriate husbands got sick of their emasculating bullshit and moved to another state under an assumed name.
Cry all you want. Men will take what’s available because it’s in our nature. It’s what we do and who we are, and just because women resent it doesn’t mean it’s going anywhere.
When women hand their bodies to us in the name of feminist egalitarianism, we take the bodies and forget about what the hell it’s called. All we see is availability…and now we’re opportunists; soulless scumbags with no moral compass bordering on the sociopathic.
Hey, it’s not our fault that Oxytocin doesn’t run rampant in our bloodstreams.
The regret drug. Oops. Didn’t think feelings would play a role in rough play, did you?
Frankly, it’s time all women took a long, hard look at what they’ve created.
Yes, this is their world, the one they carved out in the name of equality and then hammered over our heads for 5 decades.
So this is what hammering us over the head for 5 decades looks like…
Here we go again.
These ads must be written by a coven of angry Madison Avenue witches suffering post traumatic stress disorder after learning that their husbands are leaving them for 22-year-old strippers in the East Village.
This poor guy is so pathetic it’s laughable. His [whatever that is on his head], bankers attire and sexless body language leave one with the impression that he’d be better off dead.
But no matter how sad a state he appears to be in he STILL looks like her husband. Maybe he lover. Possibly her boyfriend! But definitely NOT her dad.
This company’s advertising is worth watching because it represents the most blatant attempt at negatively stereotyping middle-aged men that I’ve ever seen.
After a while this shit gets ridiculous.
The woman is obviously in her mid-40s, which is fine because she still looks great [but not in this photograph] for a hard-working middle-aged talk show host.
Generally speaking, I don’t care that people lie about their age.
But for someone like Handler who prides herself on coming clean about everything, and then demanding the same of her guests is beyond belief.
Now viewers focus more on the quality of her Botox injections than her performance.
Now she’s the brunt of the joke.
Gene Simmons’ “hair” is no longer a talking point.
Now everyone knows that the routine outing of guests is an effective ploy to deflect attention from herself.
I’d like to someone challenge her on the numbers, but I’m sure their appearance contract prohibits any mention of her age.
In the end, people would have far more respect for her if she just stopped embarrassing herself.
Yes, she can still attract the attention of young men — for a night, which is the crux of this whole thing: waning relevance.
Love the irony.
Disclaimer: I’m no longer in this war.
Now I’m now an observer who once fought it for more years than I can count.
I also received more purple hearts than I care to remember.
A few bullet points to consider:
1] Young women resent being hit on by men their father’s age, even in a world where said men are dating women their age, including their own fathers.
2] Middle-aged women resent being ignored by age-relevant men who look like Pierce Brosnan — and with similar levels of wealth.
3] Young men resent having to compete with men twice their age and 200 times their net worth in dollar bills.
Everyone’s pissed and confused because everything that was supposed to happen a certain way is not happening at all.
Normal, well adjusted college women will never see any of this unless their dads bring home one of their classmates — to live at the same house.
As for middle aged women, they’ll harvest from the readily available pool of college guys that want great sex without having to act on their Internet perversions with women they want to marry.
And young men no longer have unfettered access to sex on demand because now they have to do battle with older men who can outspend them in a world that values materialism over everything else.
There’s good and bad, but somebody’s gotta recalibrate the numbers.
Ever notice that after not seeing someone for years [usually a decade or more], the first thing you tell them is how great they look?
What brought me to this was Facebook, where older people are always complimenting one another on their appearance.
It’s never “Hey, what’s up?” or “Hey, great to see you.”
It’s “Hey John, you look great!”
The fact is older people generally look like crap compared to the way they used to look no matter how good it may have been.
The compliment is meant to either blunt the shock of a sudden encounter, or gain acceptance through flattery.
Most people assume that after a certain age people obsess about appearance, so the compliments have become a sort of default greeting like shaking hands.
But there are other less obvious motives.
For example, if a woman looks like hell while her lifelong friend is jammed up with Botox and Yoga, it makes the hotter of the two feel less ashamed of the disparity.
The best approach is to avoid the appearance issue altogether.
If you must, just tell them they look great for their age.
This won’t win you any friends, but at least it’s honest.
But don’t say it without including yourself in the equation because you’ll look like an asshole no matter what the hell you actually look like.
Young people look great all the time – even after a sleepless night of binging. Their skin pops right up like the surface of a beach ball, their hair is thick and tousled like someone just spent an hour styling it for a scene in an action-adventure sequence, and the freaking whites of their eyes are blinding. Mine only look like that after an entire bottle of Visine. Otherwise it’s like I’ve been damned to Hell or something. So no, people don’t need to compliment young people on their appearance!
The downside for youth is that is fleeting, which means that we spend the lion’s share of our lives in Purgatory.
We go from 17 to 21 in a heartbeat, and by the time we hit the backside of 30 it’s all down hill.
We get about 12 years of grace before life throws us out into open waters where we spend the remainder of it propping each other up.
So whether it’s women looking for their Prince at age 35, or a guy in his mid-40’s dating college students, it gets weirder and weirder as we go.
This is why I always tell people that once youth is gone, just relax and go with what works because the time for normal and well adjusted is over.
Controlling a woman is delusion, except in cases where childhood hardship leaves wounds greater than herself. In such cases you can push all you want and she won’t notice anything but the attention.
Women don’t tie up the loose ends of a man’s life. They soften the blows of masculine design, which is always a pain in the ass I must admit.
Setting a woman free is the boldest move a man can make. It’s reveals a certain solidity – solidarity with self – which is intoxicating to any woman.
Setting a man free is a different story for another blog.
Suffice to say, men generally need a tighter leash because men are always at war with their impulses on some level.
You reap what you sow. Knock off the bitching.
Feminism was a beautiful disaster: Inevitable and utterly demoralizing to gender relations.
Blame my generation if it makes you feel better — the Boomers, the dickheads who set everything ablaze with angst and fury and righteous prose.
And after the angel dust settled we turned our backs on everything we stood for because, as it turned out, we liked money and fame and celebrity and materialism after all.
So now the kids today are living with the scars; the entitlement, narcissism, and ever-elusive fantasies.
This was particularly bad for men, because today masculinity is a plague with anti-virals in every media domain.
Young men are left to feed when they’re hungry, and then go back to the web when it subsides because there isn’t anywhere else to go.
Okay, I’ll shut up.
Does it really matter whether or not I date, marry or live with someone less than half my age?
I guess it does if I’m 20, but what about 55?
Now she’s in her 20′s.
Are you still on board?
I’m not addressing you men because I know you couldn’t care less.
As for the rest of the population, it’s like the End of Days.
My live-in girlfriend is a millennial. I am a Baby-Boomer. Together we look like the typical urban father and daughter.
Does this make you kinda’ sick?
If it does, you’re not alone.
We feel the heat everywhere we go. Not within more enlightened urban circles, but everywhere else which is a lot of real estate.
Nonetheless, I think you take love where you can find it, and if age is the only thing separating two people, it’s not enough to stop it.
I live in the moment. We both do. What happens ten years from now will happen then, not now.
If we were born at exactly the same moment in time, it could all end tomorrow for reasons having nothing whatsoever to do with age-relevance. Divorce doesn’t show favoritism.
With these thoughts in mind, I’m sure you’d like to know how this thing of ours happened in the first place?
More specifically, how did a 55-year-old man attract the romantic attention of a 25-year-old without a blatant financial proposition?
This is what most people think when they see relationships like ours, which are exploding like a pandemic, by the way.
They never imagine that through something like prolonged exposure, two people might eventually stumble upon a connection they would never otherwise consider possible.
And I’m not talking about sex, because the older man/younger woman crush is as old as the hills, and usually, just as predictable in outcome.
The fantasy. The one off with professor X. The race back to “reality.”
But in some cases “reality” is more fluid.
Sometimes love blindsides us for reasons we could debate for the next thousand years, but suffice to say, a lot of it [in the case of generational divides] is about healing one another’s emotional wounds.
When the chasm is wide, you need a lot of glue.
People in these kinds of relationships tend not to fit the normal, well-adjusted profile.
But neither are we co-dependent, or insane, or “business partners.”
Everyone has a trigger, and most of it involves family-of-origin issues. So when those issues are strong enough, unusual things tend to show up; particularly in one’s love life.
But at this writing, neither of us are in mental institutions thank you very much.
We’re both degreed. She is an artist and freelance graphic designer, and I am a semi-retired photographer and writer.
I say “semi-retired” because I will never retire no matter how much I have in the bank. And she is driven to the point of obsession, so it’s a wash.
OOOOh, so it’s about MONEY! I KNEW THERE WAS A CATCH! NO WONDER SHE “LOVES” HIM.
NEWSFLASH: If I were 35 and broke, the odds of my finding an attractive, age-relevant girlfriend would be nil. My only shot would be to find an older woman of means who didn’t mind having a handsome houseboy around while she was out taking over the world.
My point here is that we all have standards and we’re all objectively appraised on some level. So while my young girlfriend may find safe haven in me from whatever hell descended before we met, we all find something that matters more than everything else combined.
“C” worked for me as an artist’s assistant, and over time, we grew close. Aside from the fact that many people [primarily older women] find this situation as questionable as they do distasteful, it is really a statement about their own flagging sense of self.
The fact of the matter is I would have been happy to date a 40-something woman, but I never found a connection.
It had nothing whatsoever to do with holding out for someone in their 20’s to validate me.
It was not about age at all, but rather about how difficult it was finding love in the first place.
This is why it is so important to hold on to it when it does materialize no matter what the hell it looks like from the outside.
I’ve been going through a midlife crisis since I was 28.
That was like, um, a long time ago, and I’m still afflicted.
So maybe it’s working for me, like a reminder.
What I’ve learned is that there’s never enough of anything to cover the need for more relevance no matter how much you happen to have.
No matter what any of us choose to do with our lives, when we reach the middle years and aren’t working [say, because we don't have to], the hunger to get back in the game tends to creep up.
And believe me when I tell you there aren’t enough beautiful women in the world, or money in an investment portfolio, or hotel properties on your play schedule to fill in all the vacant space when you’re not doing something you consider meaningful.
Men who accomplish things in their lives, who are driven by nature, must push on to survive. And I’m not talking about a ventilator, though it may come to that at some point.
The point is that we must stay relevant if we are to continue living, because to not do so is to die, usually slowly, over time — and often under the influence of things that determine how long it will take.
So if you mix vodka with enough water, it can take a while.
But while this may sound fine for you, it sucks for everyone around you. So make sure you can afford to do it alone.
No wonder The Stones keep touring, and Letterman keeps showing up night after night, and all those news anchors never seem to go away.
And have you ever noticed that famous actors tend to spend more time in rehab when they’re not working?
It doesn’t end with an award or more money or a trophy wife. It ends when the fight dies, and you know when that is.
There’s only so much beach to cover on foot, or cocktails at sunset with a French hooker — or Craps in Vegas with a vacuum cleaner in your side pocket — before you know it’s time to check back in and prove to yourself that you still exist, that you still matter.
And don’t tell me you don’t give a shit what the world thinks about you sitting on your ass all day long, because you know it isn’t true.
We all need a reason to go on living.
It can be anything, really: organic farming, writing a book, family, love…
Whatever the hell it is it better be a reason beyond survival itself.
There must be a challenge, a struggle to overcome something…FIND IT.
I have friends who were musicians who now work in the film industry. Others were brokers turned screenwriters. I even know one guy who opened bed-and breakfasts across the State of Texas.
Sitting still too long is to die from the inside out. And while people in yoga have been known to sit still for centuries without food or water, I don’t do yoga.
So when we find ourselves fantasizing about what it might have been like to act, or produce, or play in a band, or whatever the fantasy may look like, perhaps this is the time to explore it.
And no, the chances of becoming a rock star at middle age aren’t particularly good; but neither is writing the Great American Novel at any age — or becoming a leading man in Hollywood with 500,000 guys in their twenties standing in line in front of you; many of them with relatives in the business.
The point is to find something that makes you feel like you’re contributing something to the world, that you are still relevant, or it’s time to check out of it altogether because no one wants to hear your whining.
Get a grip.
We all face adversity at every age.
We all get sick.
We lose jobs.
We feel depressed.
We live with memories we wish we didn’t have.
And we experience these things throughout our lives, not just at middle age.
Maybe it’s time to start counting the blessings. Write them down on a piece of paper, then tape them to you computer monitor – or post them on a blog so others can see they’re not alone.
See, you’re still here after all.
“They sent me a snake! I assure you! Do not be fooled by appearances!”
PLEASE NOTE: Within the past few days my blogging has been stymied due to certain unforeseen events. This has led to psychiatric reactions that should be within my control, but still aren’t, which is why remain in therapy. Posting will resume tomorrow — after my electro-convulsive therapy and Haldol injections.
UPDATE: It’s the next day and I have decided, instead, to give my cats the Haldol and skip the ECT altogether.
So Anton and I chat…
They sent me a snake!
Anton, please calm down. What exactly happened?
The thing came to me in the night, like something that hunts in the cover of darkness. Oh, yes, beautiful. But, beware my friend, beware. This is no ordinary creature. Not at all. No sir. Not ordinary in the least.
What could possibly be so horrible about a beautiful married woman they sent you? I mean they didn’t even send a hooker, for Christ sake! You paid a basic membership fee!
Ah ha! You immediately called it woman. How do you know what it was? How can you be sure?
The website targets married people who want to have affairs. They don’t do anything other than provide the website. The rest is up to you. They had nothing to do with your hook-up.
What is ‘hook-up?” You think for a minute I would waste my vast array of skills on foolishness? This is the ploy they use, but it is useless with me, you see.
Anton, they didn’t do anything. You did. You obviously contacted some desperate married woman, sent her a fake photograph and lured her out here into the desert. My guess is that you intended to inject her and she ran, but probably the moment she met you. Is this the photo you used?
[jpeg of 22-year old college athlete sits on his desktop next to his schematic of The Atomic Table of Elements.]
Do not dare to insult me, I warn you! The snake came at me like a wild animals and attempted to strike!
You lied to her, and then attempted to assault her with your completely illegal experiments! The last woman is still on morphine!
Did you try to stick her?
I don’t use such crude terminology. I will not even acknowledge it!
I had to bail you out of jail for sticking that hooker with python cells, which almost killed her, by the way. And if the authorities could find you, you’d be behind bars for the rest of your life.
I have already expressed to you my feelings about these feeble beings. I have no interest in them.
Well they have a great deal of interest in you.
The woman should be proud of her sacrifice. Enough about this! Let us move on.
Let’s talk about Ashleymadison.com. You have demanded a refund on your initiation fee, but you paid with a stolen credit card and used a phony mailing address.
I called a hooker from there. A true thing of interest, I assure you. I told her to come here right away to pursue matters of mutual interest.
Who’s mutual interest? She though she was coming out here to meet a handsome young athlete for sex.
How dare you! Be careful, I warn you. I know what you are saying!
Where’s the black eye come from? The woman probably punched you and then ran for her life.
I am completely and finished with this discussion in its current form. I will have absolutely no more of it.
Why would you contact a service like Ashley Madison in the first place?
I found myself somewhat fascinated. That is all.
Anton, were you trying to get laid?
Don’t dare say that! I am warning you for the last time!
You were trying to connect with a woman in a sexual way, weren’t you?
Stop that! My research comes first and foremost! Why I must repeat this time after time is unbelievable to me.
I dunno…23, flawless ass, sexy, unfulfilled…it just kind of begs the question.
Believe what you will! The fact that I remain quite virile, I assure you, and astounding to many women, is of no significance here.
Anton, women like guys with money no matter how good looking they are, or aren’t…just to put things in proper context.
This would include women from AshleyMadison.com who aren’t looking as much for affairs – which they can find at any neighborhood grocery store – as much as they are looking for better living arrangements.
All this leads me to question your real motives. Is this about research or is it a desire to connect?
I have no idea what you are saying. Our conversation is at an end, I am afraid.
It’s funny how the things we don’t say are the very things that define who we are.
[To be continued…]