Member-only story
How we’re all animals
And how that’s a good thing
I have what I think is an interesting story. Interesting because it surprised even me, and it happened to me. Meaning, I didn’t expect the finding that presented itself to me. Never in a million years.
This story is about sex. Sex and love. Sex and a little bit of love. Sex and some love. Sex and regard. Sex and scent. Sex and pheromones. Sex and… age. And the surprise lies in the last couplet.
I’m in the extremely surprising, supposedly enviable, totally weird position of having a lover 15 years younger than I am. This, after having a lover for four years who was… far too old for me. My former lover was 23 years older than me, which made him, ahem, 73, now 74 years old.
My current lover is 15 years younger than me. Which is really weird, and not something I sought. Decidedly not. In fact, I don’t actually love it, the concept, I mean. I have always skewed older. Older men make me feel safe. But who am I kidding? They make me feel safe in (large?) part because I feel in control. I feel more in control with an older man. I feel more attractive, more sexy, because, well, it’s relative, right? I have a better chance at “keeping” an older man. Right?
Not that I ever have a problem keeping them. Or in the them keeping me part. I tend to choose men who are rather…
