The revelation I am about to write below might or might not make you respect me a little less (leaving you with, possibly, not much to go off on from now on). At the very least, I bet I can make you raise your eyebrows at the situation. At the very least, I say.
I never subscribed to the philosophy that "age is just a number." Because it's a phrase most often uttered by middle-aged men (or older) in reference to the little bimbos they have acquired with the help of their office-provided Lambos and their brand new Ferragamos. I always resented older men walking down the street with cute little petite girls, holding hands and grinning from ear to ear. What can they possibly have in common, I thought? Why would they possibly want to spend time with one another for reasons other than sex and convenience?
I've always felt it was empowering but eyebrow-raising when older women dated younger men. A double standard, yes, but a double standard that most people adhere to to this day. Take Demi and Ashton. Yes, the bitch is unstable, but it seems almost certain that the playboy has been stepping out on Ms. Moore for quite some time. And even if he wasn't, look at how the whole saga ended.
And now I can't help by raise my own damn eyebrows at my own damn self. Because I am entertaining, nay, full-fledgedly living the "dream" of dating a boy seven years my junior.
Yes, ladies and gents, take a seat if you have been standing. This shit is about to get real.
The dude is barely 21 and I am fully in lust with him.
The night of a big Full Moon party at one of Singapore's premier beaches I was, what they might call it, flagged. Inebriated, wasted, gone. I do, however, distinctly remember seeing a gorgeous new Singaporean guy in the circle of my friends and I remember wondering why I hadn't seen him earlier.
He had wild hair, shorter in the back, with dark bangs with red highlights that swept across his forehead. He was a mix of Chinese and Indian and God knows what, and I was immediately attracted to his deep brown eyes.
If I hadn't been drunk, I would have never talked to him. And when I did start talking to him, and continued talking to him, and talked and talked until I was sober and then talked some more, I did not know his age. He looked in his early twenties but, to be fair, most Asian guys look younger than they are. Mid-twenties I suspected.
"You know, L, He's 21..." one of my guy friends finally cautioned me with a meaningful look at some point of the night. I looked back at him, pale with realization.
"Twenty. One?" I repeated in disbelief.
That did not prevent me, however, from continuing talking to the object of my affection and revealing my age. He was a bit taken aback that he was talking to someone older, nonetheless. I remember him say that it's refreshing to talk to someone older because he mostly talks to younger girls and he does not have much to talk to them about.
Great. So he dates 18 year olds. Don't I feel ancient.
I thought that was that. We parted our ways at the end of the night (well into the early morning) and as much as I wanted to kiss him or for him to kiss me, neither of the things happened. My fantasy dissipated with the rising sun and I was willing and ready to forget all about Mr. 21 as I drifted off to sleep in my bed at 7 in the morning.
But the next day... oh boy, the next day.
I woke up to find out that Mr. 21 sent me a friend request on Facebook, and so it began. From then on, we talked all day on Sunday, all day on Monday, he took me out on Tuesday and Wednesday. And now he's on the way to the States for the first time in his life and I am meeting him there in a week in the City of Brotherly Love to show him around town.
Coincidence or fate that we are going to be in the same American city at the same time?
Probably a coincidence. What am I doing with a 21 year old anyway?
There is something incredibly great about him. None of the baggage of the older guys I've been dating lately. None of the stress. Instant connection despite the age. No rushing into things. No immediate expectations.
Do I see this relationship as being a viable long-term thing? No. Do I see his or my parents approving? No. Do I see my friends not judging? No.
But I am infatuated and I guess my heart can bear getting hurt again. And maybe I need this. I need a sweet, lovely guy with a beautiful smile and even more beautiful eyes to sweep me off my feet and tell me that I am gorgeous, and breathtaking, and that he couldn't believe that I started talking to him in the first place.
Maybe age is just a number... after all.