Dating “Daddy”

Thursday night’s date: we’ll call him Mr. Wonderful (somewhat sarcastically, but I do like him). He’s a lot older than me—15 years, to be exact–works in finance, used to work in mega politics, and owns his own apartment on the Upper East Side. It’s so different dating–are you ready for this?–a grown up. 

What are the differences? Well, for one we have very cerebral conversations, and he’s not some pretentious literati or art snob. He’s intelligent, interesting, and seemingly logical. Yeah, I know–logical!

"I ain't sayin' she a gold-digger..."

My mom seemed kind of shocked when I told her his age over the phone, which made me laugh a little. I then reminded her that two guys I’ve dated in the past (the Pilot and the Ranger) were also 15 years older than me. <insert the obvious “Daddy Issues” joke here> 

Aside from the good conversation, another interesting thing about going on a date with this grown-up person is that he’s not trying to put the sketch-moves on me. He’s not sleazy, which you’d think he would be given that he’s 42 and I’m (almost) 27. The Ke$ha song “Sleazy” more or less describes how I feel about a lot of the older guys who ask me out–they get denied.

Note: Mr. Wonderful doesn’t have any kids, and has been previously engaged, unlike some of the other fellows I’ve dated, bringing to mind the inevitable “if he’s not married, what’s wrong with him?” question. His engagement was broken off at the last-minute because of her family’s pressure, and their vast religious differences.

(And just to get this out of the way, I’m not an effing gold digger. I could never bring myself to do that. Gross.)

To be quite frank, I almost never go out with guys my own age. Even when I was 18 I was dating a 21 year old (too bad he sucked and was a psycho). As a freshman in college I dated seniors. As a junior I dated a political aide in his late-20s. Are we seeing a pattern here? (I’d forgotten about the political aide.) Even ex-Steve was significantly older than me, so was Other Steve, come to think of it. 35 vs 24, and 33 vs 25, respectively. Crush was the first guy I’ve dated who was my own age since…gosh. Maybe ever? Not counting middle school, which wasn’t even “dating.” In a lot of cases the age differences weren’t any kind of big deal. Not until you got to the “this song reminds me of freshman year of college” and he sits there, stunned, going “Oh. This song reminds me of my fifth year in New York.”

Fortunately, Mr. Wonderful was pleasantly surprised at how mature I am. I’ve always gotten along with people much older than me. They’re just so much more interesting to talk to!

I’m sure I’m going to find myself at 40 and a total cougar. Watch me pounce on little cubs, Samantha-style. Meow!

By the way, in case you find this post’s title off-putting, it’s reminiscent of the creepiness of Marilyn Monroe’s character calling her man “Daddy”  in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes”

Check out this clip…around the 1:45 mark.

And Ke$ha’s “Sleazy”…


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