I recently asked an elderly man I know why he wasn’t pursuing a relationship with someone his own age instead of proposing marriage to women young enough to be his daughter(s).
“Because I don’t want some shrivelled up old woman with a walker.”, he said.
Clearly a classic case of the shrivelled pot calling the shrivelled kettle old. Loneliness, apparently, is not a cure for entitlement.
I’ll be honest, that kind of attitude makes me incredibly sad. A huge turn-off in my books.
To counter this bad taste in my mouth, I remember the way my ex father-in-law described meeting his future wife, eleven years his senior, for the first time: “Anne was so beautiful; I had my eye on her. She was the one I wanted.” She had already had nine children by the time they met and together, they had one more, my ex-husband. They remained devoted to each other for forty solid years, until Anne’s death in 2000.
And if that doesn’t revive your faith in true love, listen to Jason Momoa talk about his love for Lisa Bonet, twelve years older than him.
I’m not saying a significant age difference either way is wrong. It just irks me that a crusty old man wearing pull-ups would dismiss the women of his generation so callously.
Care to share your thoughts on this?