I'm 41. Except for when I was about 13 and lusting after David Bowie, Gary Numan, and several members of Duran Duran, I've never been interested in older men. Since I do an awful lot of soul-searching and self-reflecting (I have no "life" to speak of and live in my head, after all), I've come to the conclusion that part of this, at least, comes from the fact that I was socially ostracized (exiled, really) throughout my formative years. I never had dates, never was asked to dances or to the prom, was treated like an animal, and had no affectionate or sexual contact with males until I was in my late 20s.
Perhaps my obsession with much younger men has to do with being utterly denied their company and - let's face it - their hot, skinny, nubile bodies when I was young. I'm an extremely visual person; I can pretty much figure out if a guy's anything I'd consider sleeping with in less than 10 seconds. Shallow? Sure. The bodies of men over 35 (unless the guys in question work out regularly and are fit, or else are naturally thin, and relatively hairless) repulse me, period. The thought of seeing them naked or engaging in sexual activity with them makes me want to vomit. I don't say this because I'm ultra-conceited and think of myself as a supermodel or anything of the sort - it just is what it is; it's either there, or it's not. I *am* pretty thin and fit, but that fact (even when I'm in my relatively form-fitting exercise gear) seems not to matter to or attract men, anyway.
Then there's the immaturity factor... I have nothing in common with men my age or older. Where most of them are in their lives has nothing to do with my plane of existence. I have no career, or any hope of one, at least right now; I don't even know what I want out of life, or what I might really like to do for work, at this point. I'm not into material possessions (I might like to borrow someone's souped up, mint-condition muscle car, but I don't need to own it); I'll probably never be a homeowner, or a parent, or have a 401K or a stock portfolio. These concepts are alien to me, and have nothing to do with my reality. I may be 41, but I'm really about 16. 'Twas ever thus.
The height (with few exceptions) and the social deficits are turn-offs, from my experience. There *might* be something I could do to alleviate the latter, but there's nothing I can do to change the former, obviously - not that I would. If only I could live in a perfect world - a Netherlands or a Scandinavia filled with young Aspie men... *Sigh* The bottom line, though, is that I'll be DAMNED if I go to my grave without having had something young and pretty!
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Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
~Steve Jobs