Let’s talk about men. Yes the security guy at the front desk is cute, he does some kind of mixed martial arts, but he’s young. Gay boyfriend was puzzled about how that could be a problem. My thinking is this: that guy can’t take me to the Essex House where I can comfortably sink into a fancy leather seat to drink top shelf martinis while taking in the wondrous aroma of whiskey and cigar smoke and talk about the latest Paul Krugman piece and possibly about art (whereas, an older gentleman can). He probably shaves his pubes off. And he wrestles with other men. Gay boyfriend was still puzzled. So in an effort to elaborate, I will do a compare and contrast argument with older v. younger, and I will entitle the latter “UFC”. UFC definitely doesn’t have a beach house where I could drop the day job and go write my memoirs. Even if that translates into squandering the time drinking too much and getting nothing done, where my ultimate and inevitable return would produce little writing and one big hangover, at least the opportunity to attempt a first draft would be there. And I’d be tan. UFC guy wouldn’t take me to fancy places like the Hamptons or Cape May. His regular watering hole is probably in Bayonne. Although, he most likely wouldn’t drink in lieu of fight preparation, so I imagine spending time with him could entail moseying around Prospect Park drinking energy drinks and green tea. Maybe he’s not from Brooklyn but it doesn’t matter. I don’t like parks. I like the ocean and I like men who want to go boating. UFC guy would grow completely weary from my intellectual rantings regarding the mastery of Peter Bogdonavich and how I need to go to San Francisco to remember the artist within that I feel I somehow left there. Even though he’s handsome, he smells like cabbage. He’s got that trimmed beard with a crew cut thing going on that’s wicked hot, but I’m at least ten years older than he is. If in conversation he didn’t know of Mr. Roper (or some other important cultural icon), I would be mortified.
My father was forty-two when I was born. His heyday was the fifties. He used to prowl the Wildwood boardwalk with his drinking buddies and go listen to jazz. I’ve taken just about all of my musical influence from him, from Harry James to John Coltrane. And then there’s comedy. That generation loved Johnny Carson. He explained to me who Jack Parr was. Growing up he used to play old Spike Jones records for me and do imitations of Peter Lory. UFC guy has never even seen The Pink Panther. Maybe what I’m saying is I’m an old soul, but I think I’m saying I have retro sensibilities.
An older gentlemen would have a beach house. He would think it was cute that I like vodka for dinner and he would always be concerned that I was alright. He wouldn’t think anything of coming to get me, wherever I was. In New York, you’re lucky if you get a guy to leave his borough. Another thing, it doesn’t have to always happen, but girls like it when a man scampers ahead of us to get the door, which seems somehow like a lost art.
UFC guy has had so much pussy waving around, he doesn’t understand how to make a princess feel like a queen. Old guy does. Old guy also gets the whole jewelry thing too. UFC guy has tattoos which is kind of cool but the first time I caught him looking at himself in the mirror, I think it’d be over. Also he’s had more than one threesome and I’m just too old for that shit.
New York guys are the complete opposite of this. They don’t think they need to do anything. They take you to a wine bar once and then expect sex. It’s absolutely unacceptable. Old guy would go so far out of his way to please his future bride. He would buy stuff and go for long weekend trips. UFC picks up women from bars who dress sparingly and look like they’re twelve. An older gentleman knows how to feed the Cinderella complex. The only complex UFC is familiar with is Napolean. I think I’ve made my point. It is something I had to write out, because having several cougar friends, I just wanted to get my side heard.