There's a lot in the press at the moment, about dating younger men. Cougar Town, the hit US TV show, with the gorgeous Courtney Cox, brings the subject of the rules of dating and age to the fore front of the media. Demi Moore is the most obvious cougar out there, married to Ashton Kutcher, and on the other scale, we have Catherine Zeta Jones, married to Micheal Douglas.I myself have just turned a year older, and I have to say, men my age of a good quality, are a rare breed. Because of this, I have recently decided to investigate the pros and cons of dating up and down on the age front.
Firstly, I am thankfully too young to be classed as a cougar. I checked this stat out straight after I was sober enough to use my laptop after my birthday celebrations. That aside, I did decide to look into broadening my age range criteria. I have always said, that I would never date anyone younger than my nephew (five years younger than me) or older than my next sister (11 years older). But, this week, I have two dates set up to test whether my rules need to be broken. The things I have considered are the obvious, and so far, from initial research; reading articles and talking to others, there is quite a clear divide to base my decision on...
Money:
The older man is a definite winner here 9/10. Most older men will have matured within their career, and be happy with their lot in life. Younger men might be a little flash with the cash if they have it, and want to wine and dine you at some restaurant or bar they class as "trendy", whereas your older date will take you somewhere "nice". The down side is, an older man is likely to be paying out for a string of ex wives / kids, and a younger man is more than likely going to be spending it on flash cars and thinking he looks the don, or have a ever growing tab rivalling that of a debt of third world country at his local boozer. One all here me thinks.
Conversation. It goes without saying that a older man will have had more life experience, and therefore more likely to be worldly wise. But a younger guy will have a little more zest for life about him, and want to experience new things. Saying that, I have had dates with older guys where they seem to yabber on about things I have no idea about (for example, the date who talked on and on about the death of John Lennon and where he was when he heard, then asking me where I was - I was 2 years old. Probably asleep or running round my garden naked. Ironically, that's what I was doing when i heard about Diana's death - joke).Or the worst - the younger, very fit guy I dated who thought Audrey Hepburn was a boxer. I kid you not. Wouldn't have minded, but he was shite in bed to boot. One nil to the older man on this one.
Sex. The last point leads nicely on to a very important factor, the seX factor. Now, I know sex isn't everything, but I am pretty sure, that the 59 year old, tanned, wrinkly man from Belgium that winked at me on match.com last weekend, would not have the sexual stamina of the 24 year old from Turkey that winked at me yesterday. (I really have to check the amount of "miles from" I have specified on my profile - unless I have moved, neither Turkey or Belgium are within 20 miles of my house). Anyway, here, I am a little stuck - I have had a variation in partners over the years, and I have to say a few of the best were the older ones. Admittedly, they were the ones with the confidence and bodies to match - I'm sure had the failed game show host get me THAT drunk (IE dead) his body would not have been a visual treat. (For those that know his current profession, I am ashamed to tell you he was recently dressed as a Play Boy Bunny on TV. I felt physically sick). But for me, the body isn't the bee all and end all....its the confidence and 007 of it all. The younger man may have the stamina, but the lack of confidence really does mean that the older men have this one. Just not the 59 year old ones with wrinkled skin and Viagra in their top draw. Two nil to the older man. Zero for the really older man.
Social Status. OK, say hypothetically, my dates go well this week, I will have to consider that I may have to introduce one of them to my friends. A critical / piss taking (but lovely) bunch at times, I'm trying to imagine which would fit in better? Would an older man be happy to join me and my lot getting smasho on pink fizz, and put up with my drunken theories on Al Qaeda using Subway as a front in the Western world? (Sorry Subway Brighton - it was quite simply because I hate your food. It was a pissed statement, and a mildly sweeping one). Although to be fair, would any man be happy to put up with me doing that???? Possibly not. But either an older man or a younger man would need balls of steel to a)meet my mates b)let me meet their mates. No points for either here.
Children. Either could have them, but lets face facts, an older man is more likely to have a band of children hidden away, or be on a time line to have them. Or not want them at all. So this poses an issue. Looking at dog eared pics of Sally and Tommy as babies on date one is a very boring first date occurrence. Having to potentially look after them - highly unappealing. Wanting you to knock a few kids out pronto is also off the cards. Younger men get the short term points, but not the future prospect.I don't want to be 45 and preggers. A point young-uns!
Dates. Future dates with an older man will involve: walking the dog; walks in the country; drives in the country in a nice car; work parties; golf parties; nice meals; weekends away. Very nice. But I need my pink fizz and kebabs. And so to the younger man - future dates with whom would be: festivals; concerts; the latest 3D film; their mates new bands first gig; trendy bars with gorgeous young people; their mates 25th birthday.......hmmmmmmmm. I'll either die from walking too much, or be jailed for shooting my boyfriend for making me use a portaloo for the weekend. Nil points!
The Future. One has one, one's living it. One is likely to whisk me away to a chateau in France where (guess what?) we'll walk a lot, but I can always marry his fit son from his first marriage, when he crocks from eating too much cheese and fine wine. The other, younger, will have me shacked up in a new build in some trendy part of town, and I'll be addicted to the treadmill in a vain attempt to hold onto him. He will still run off with the fit 21 year old from the office. Old man all the way!
So, from the above simple pros and cons, I have established that for me a older guy is the better option, but one that can put up with my wayward and sometimes childish lifestyle. I only hope that by the time I am telling two blokes just out of prison, that I'm a copper for shits and giggles, he's safely tucked up with a Horlicks and News Night. And he'll pay for the plastic surgery I'll most probably need after being headbutted. For now, I'll see how my two luncheon dates go - ones chosen Waggamama, the other afternoon tea. Dare you to guess which ones which.....
Monday, 29 March 2010
Saturday, 13 March 2010
Daydream Believer
From a very young age, I have had an exceptional over active imagination. I put it down to the fact, that I was more or less an only child, thanks to being a late addition to the family (big shock when Mum realised it wasn't the change, and was in fact me in her belly). This, mixed with a difficult start in life, meant that I had a lot of time playing by myself. (All together - AHHHHHHH). As a wee nipper, (Lady Danger Junior),I spent most of my time either playing with my extensive Barbie collection, or playing Cinderella. Well actually, I was obsessed by a film called The Slipper And The Rose, based on Cinderella, and used to pretend I was the main character, and Richard Chamberlain was my prince coming to rescue me.(If you know who Richard Chamberlain is, please appreciate that it was a loooong time ago and I was about six).I'm still waiting for my prince. Richard Chamberlain is now 76 though so I'd quite like a younger model. A grand son would be acceptable. If he is good at swashing his sword, all the better.
Anyway, worryingly, my daydream and make believe thoughts haven't left me with age. I am still probably the worst for coming up with far fetched scenarios and situations that I hope to one day get into. Over the years, they have had many a main character, be it an ex who has been a twat monkey, and I get my revenge, or a celeb who I decide is for me, and therefore work out how we'll meet / fall in love. Here is a list of some of these, and how the stories went...they haven't got a lot better in some cases since Richard Chamberlain....
1) Donal McIntyre. The Irish bloke, who in the late 1990's had a show on TV called McIntyre Uncovered. In this programme, he infiltrated the dark and devious criminal worlds - the Chelsea gangs corrupting English football; the Nigerian mobsters scamming the Grannies of Britain, to the care home not caring for its patients. The fact he had to live in secret, away from his family due to death threats, made him all the more attractive. Mixed with the Irish accent, I was hooked. My Donal daydream, involved me meeting him at an awards ceremony, where he would be presenting me with an award (can't quite recall what for - Nobel Peace Prize maybe?). He'd be minus the death threats by now, and to Fatboys Slim's "Right Here, Right Now" we'd lock eyes, and fall in love. Not too sure when the Fat Boy Slim element came in - must've been my song of choice at the time. Now, after seeing him last year on Dancing On Ice, I'm a bit disturbed by my lust.
2) Moving on from the charm and danger of Mr McIntyre, my day dream moved swiftly onto another Irish rogue - Shane from Westlife. This was during a particularly tough Christmas at work, when Westlife saw me and my Assistant manager through the days. This caused the daydreaming to begin. This time, it started with the words of the glorious Shane being sung at me...in my mind it was all for me. I was even willing to get over the fact he's called Shane (which lets face it, is right up there on the namest scale). The day dream went that he saw me front row at a concert, and it was love at first sight (a theme is occurring, I know). This day dream got so far that I caused a rift in the band between Shane and Ronan (at the time he was managing them with Mr Walsh). Obviously, Shane chose me, and to this day, I still believe I could be the reason Ronan gave up his managing responsibilities. Anyway, I saw them live, and went off Shane when he actually got off the stool and tried to dance. It was like a bad Uncle at a wedding. Shame Shane, you had potential.
3)Now I'm sure that between Shane and about three years ago, there were many day dreaming subjects. I know I had a Tom Cruise fetish for a while, bought on by a revival in my video collection of Cocktail and Top Gun. But for the life of me I can't pin down one memorably one, until The Doctor. David Tenant. This one got so bad that when I got offered the chance to have one ticket for the closing night of Hamlet, or go to my friends birthday party, I was very tempted to say "alas poor H, somethings come up". I didn't however, and instead had an enjoyable evening dressed as a Mexican (with a full tash and fake cigar - it was a great look). Anyhoo, in this day dream, David and I meet on The Jonathan Ross show, where we are both guests. I am by now a world famous writer - the new Helen Fielding. David has just won an Oscar for his movie adaptation of Hamlet. We all go out to dinner after the show, and love blossoms. We get married in the little chapel at Edinburgh Castle, me wearing a lovely simple number, David a kilt. I only call him David, not Dave. He also can only speak in an English accent as i don't fancy him when he's Scottish. He won't mind this, as we are madly in love.
4)Obviously, you all know my current day dream - the gorgeous, and not with Jennifer Aniston (not in my world anyway) Gerard Butler. As I am still in the delusional believe that GB will one day be Mr Danger, I am bound not to divulge how we meet and fall madly in love. Because you will one day be reading about it in the News Of The World / Heat / Hello. But I will tell you that I move in next door to him. Even that's to much - I'm tempted to delete.
Now, most of you will probably have been reading this thinking that my lent agreement with the Big G (to give up men) has led me to madness, but I will now give you evidence of the contray. You see, daydreamers are some of the most successful people in history. Albert Einstein. Richard Branson. Walt Disney. Beethoven. All these great men focused on the path to success, through daydreaming. Now, if you therefore apply the same theory to me, we have a success story to end all success stories! I visualise my goal and the success - daydream as to how to get there, and before you know it, Gerard and I are walking down the aisle. Simples ladies and gentlemen! Visualise, daydream = success. Mrs Gerard butler, here I come! And all you nasty exes out there, be warned. I'm visualising a lot of sick willies and bad performing. Or is that I'm remembering a lot of sick willies and bad performances?
Anyway, worryingly, my daydream and make believe thoughts haven't left me with age. I am still probably the worst for coming up with far fetched scenarios and situations that I hope to one day get into. Over the years, they have had many a main character, be it an ex who has been a twat monkey, and I get my revenge, or a celeb who I decide is for me, and therefore work out how we'll meet / fall in love. Here is a list of some of these, and how the stories went...they haven't got a lot better in some cases since Richard Chamberlain....
1) Donal McIntyre. The Irish bloke, who in the late 1990's had a show on TV called McIntyre Uncovered. In this programme, he infiltrated the dark and devious criminal worlds - the Chelsea gangs corrupting English football; the Nigerian mobsters scamming the Grannies of Britain, to the care home not caring for its patients. The fact he had to live in secret, away from his family due to death threats, made him all the more attractive. Mixed with the Irish accent, I was hooked. My Donal daydream, involved me meeting him at an awards ceremony, where he would be presenting me with an award (can't quite recall what for - Nobel Peace Prize maybe?). He'd be minus the death threats by now, and to Fatboys Slim's "Right Here, Right Now" we'd lock eyes, and fall in love. Not too sure when the Fat Boy Slim element came in - must've been my song of choice at the time. Now, after seeing him last year on Dancing On Ice, I'm a bit disturbed by my lust.
2) Moving on from the charm and danger of Mr McIntyre, my day dream moved swiftly onto another Irish rogue - Shane from Westlife. This was during a particularly tough Christmas at work, when Westlife saw me and my Assistant manager through the days. This caused the daydreaming to begin. This time, it started with the words of the glorious Shane being sung at me...in my mind it was all for me. I was even willing to get over the fact he's called Shane (which lets face it, is right up there on the namest scale). The day dream went that he saw me front row at a concert, and it was love at first sight (a theme is occurring, I know). This day dream got so far that I caused a rift in the band between Shane and Ronan (at the time he was managing them with Mr Walsh). Obviously, Shane chose me, and to this day, I still believe I could be the reason Ronan gave up his managing responsibilities. Anyway, I saw them live, and went off Shane when he actually got off the stool and tried to dance. It was like a bad Uncle at a wedding. Shame Shane, you had potential.
3)Now I'm sure that between Shane and about three years ago, there were many day dreaming subjects. I know I had a Tom Cruise fetish for a while, bought on by a revival in my video collection of Cocktail and Top Gun. But for the life of me I can't pin down one memorably one, until The Doctor. David Tenant. This one got so bad that when I got offered the chance to have one ticket for the closing night of Hamlet, or go to my friends birthday party, I was very tempted to say "alas poor H, somethings come up". I didn't however, and instead had an enjoyable evening dressed as a Mexican (with a full tash and fake cigar - it was a great look). Anyhoo, in this day dream, David and I meet on The Jonathan Ross show, where we are both guests. I am by now a world famous writer - the new Helen Fielding. David has just won an Oscar for his movie adaptation of Hamlet. We all go out to dinner after the show, and love blossoms. We get married in the little chapel at Edinburgh Castle, me wearing a lovely simple number, David a kilt. I only call him David, not Dave. He also can only speak in an English accent as i don't fancy him when he's Scottish. He won't mind this, as we are madly in love.
4)Obviously, you all know my current day dream - the gorgeous, and not with Jennifer Aniston (not in my world anyway) Gerard Butler. As I am still in the delusional believe that GB will one day be Mr Danger, I am bound not to divulge how we meet and fall madly in love. Because you will one day be reading about it in the News Of The World / Heat / Hello. But I will tell you that I move in next door to him. Even that's to much - I'm tempted to delete.
Now, most of you will probably have been reading this thinking that my lent agreement with the Big G (to give up men) has led me to madness, but I will now give you evidence of the contray. You see, daydreamers are some of the most successful people in history. Albert Einstein. Richard Branson. Walt Disney. Beethoven. All these great men focused on the path to success, through daydreaming. Now, if you therefore apply the same theory to me, we have a success story to end all success stories! I visualise my goal and the success - daydream as to how to get there, and before you know it, Gerard and I are walking down the aisle. Simples ladies and gentlemen! Visualise, daydream = success. Mrs Gerard butler, here I come! And all you nasty exes out there, be warned. I'm visualising a lot of sick willies and bad performing. Or is that I'm remembering a lot of sick willies and bad performances?
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Romance Isn't Dead....It's Just Not very Well
"Romance Isn't Dead...It's Just Not Very Well" - the tag line of one of my all time favourite films; a Brit flick called Born Romantic. A movie about the lives of three hapless men, thrown together by salsa and their attempts to woe three women. Love, laughs and a good old British cast, the film shows that although romance is a bit sick, it's not dead, and there's hope.
This film was released in 2001, and I'm convinced that romance went from the recovery ward into a major relapse, and now rests in peace. Gone, it seems, are the days of wooing a women with romance, be it learning to dance to sweep the love of your life off your feet, to creating a tape of your favourite songs and talking in between of your love. What happened to the days of mix tapes and love letters? Is romance dead as a door nail, or do we just need to wake it up?
Now, it's been a few years since I have had a Mr Danger. More than a few actually - three whole bloody years. So I have done plenty of dating, and you'd think, therefore, a bit of romancing. Unfortunately, mainly due to the fact that most of my dates have been shite, the most romantic we've had within this time, was having Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" sung at me in the middle of the street. Hardly being swept of my feet - he forgot the lines and later swapped numbers with another girl whilst I was in the loo. But, if I go back in my dating history, I find the days pre mobile phones and Internet (those were the days) are the ones harbouring the romance. How did we do it 10 years ago?? We had no texting - you had to call their home phone (and risk their Dad picking up and mistaking him for your boyfriend and having a ten minute chat before realising - oh my that was SO embarrassing). And you had to write letters instead of emailing - and do the door drop, or send in the post....they were the days of anticipation and no risk of a lovey dovey email being used against you after an argument, and sent round the world..
Maybe I am just having a bad run, or maybe I was just a bit spoilt from a young age. My first ever kiss was on a cruise ship, under the moonlight, with a rather gorgeous Italian (who I'm still friends with and will probably be reading this - did you know you were Lady Dangers first kiss!?). That was a rather romantic start, which led to letters, and post cards over the years that followed.The bundle of letters are still kept in one of my memory boxes, and occasionally read to reminisce... oh to be in the throes of young love again! NB One bundle was thrown in the sea - a long story that involved me finding out that said Italian had got with another girl more or less straight after I'd got on my plane home. He had another week after me, and a year later, when I was back on the same ship,I met the girl he'd got with - I
was heartbroken! My perfect holiday romance had turned into a nightmare, and in a moment of ironic teenage angst, I took the bundle of letters he'd sent over that year (I'd taken them on holiday with me - not sure why) and went to the spot we'd first kissed, and threw them into the ocean.(I hope you feel very very guilty all over again if you are reading this!!).
Anyway, since then, I have grown up a bit, but do sometimes wish it was like the old days. Getting a romantic text just isn't quite the same is it? Letters are less easy to delete, you just hide them in a box, then once the pain has gone, you can re-read them. Texts get deleted the day he fucks you off and forgotten. And having a song - do people still have a song?! No clubs really play slow songs at the end of the night like they used to. What are the equivalents these days????
Maybe its just me, but I don't feel that these days we are focused as much on the romance of life. Where is my mix tape? Where is my love letter? And where is the man that can make Lady Danger melt again? Does such a man exist? Or for the reat of my life, is the most romantic experience going to be from years back?! Am I raising the bar too high? Will I be stuck with receiving random messages from scary Dizzee Rascal
lookalikes telling me I look like "his woman". (I'm very scared - he looks like an e fit off crime watch). I get the feeling that for me, for now, romance is dead, and the most I can expect is to be swept off my feet by some dick teenager on a skate board around Covent Garden. Where are you Mr Danger?! Miss Danger needs some romance pleeeeeeease! (Although can you wait a few weeks - it's still lent and the Big Fella's been good with our deal so far). For now, I will stick on the mix tape I found on my memory box, and have a sing along to a warped version of The Bangles "Eternal Flame", and hope that some day my knight will sweep me off my feet. And hope that I can also work out how to block the scary man on match.com.
(If I suddenly go missing, it'll be him - please send crack team of spinsters and cats to track him down).
This film was released in 2001, and I'm convinced that romance went from the recovery ward into a major relapse, and now rests in peace. Gone, it seems, are the days of wooing a women with romance, be it learning to dance to sweep the love of your life off your feet, to creating a tape of your favourite songs and talking in between of your love. What happened to the days of mix tapes and love letters? Is romance dead as a door nail, or do we just need to wake it up?
Now, it's been a few years since I have had a Mr Danger. More than a few actually - three whole bloody years. So I have done plenty of dating, and you'd think, therefore, a bit of romancing. Unfortunately, mainly due to the fact that most of my dates have been shite, the most romantic we've had within this time, was having Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" sung at me in the middle of the street. Hardly being swept of my feet - he forgot the lines and later swapped numbers with another girl whilst I was in the loo. But, if I go back in my dating history, I find the days pre mobile phones and Internet (those were the days) are the ones harbouring the romance. How did we do it 10 years ago?? We had no texting - you had to call their home phone (and risk their Dad picking up and mistaking him for your boyfriend and having a ten minute chat before realising - oh my that was SO embarrassing). And you had to write letters instead of emailing - and do the door drop, or send in the post....they were the days of anticipation and no risk of a lovey dovey email being used against you after an argument, and sent round the world..
Maybe I am just having a bad run, or maybe I was just a bit spoilt from a young age. My first ever kiss was on a cruise ship, under the moonlight, with a rather gorgeous Italian (who I'm still friends with and will probably be reading this - did you know you were Lady Dangers first kiss!?). That was a rather romantic start, which led to letters, and post cards over the years that followed.The bundle of letters are still kept in one of my memory boxes, and occasionally read to reminisce... oh to be in the throes of young love again! NB One bundle was thrown in the sea - a long story that involved me finding out that said Italian had got with another girl more or less straight after I'd got on my plane home. He had another week after me, and a year later, when I was back on the same ship,I met the girl he'd got with - I
was heartbroken! My perfect holiday romance had turned into a nightmare, and in a moment of ironic teenage angst, I took the bundle of letters he'd sent over that year (I'd taken them on holiday with me - not sure why) and went to the spot we'd first kissed, and threw them into the ocean.(I hope you feel very very guilty all over again if you are reading this!!).
Anyway, since then, I have grown up a bit, but do sometimes wish it was like the old days. Getting a romantic text just isn't quite the same is it? Letters are less easy to delete, you just hide them in a box, then once the pain has gone, you can re-read them. Texts get deleted the day he fucks you off and forgotten. And having a song - do people still have a song?! No clubs really play slow songs at the end of the night like they used to. What are the equivalents these days????
Maybe its just me, but I don't feel that these days we are focused as much on the romance of life. Where is my mix tape? Where is my love letter? And where is the man that can make Lady Danger melt again? Does such a man exist? Or for the reat of my life, is the most romantic experience going to be from years back?! Am I raising the bar too high? Will I be stuck with receiving random messages from scary Dizzee Rascal
lookalikes telling me I look like "his woman". (I'm very scared - he looks like an e fit off crime watch). I get the feeling that for me, for now, romance is dead, and the most I can expect is to be swept off my feet by some dick teenager on a skate board around Covent Garden. Where are you Mr Danger?! Miss Danger needs some romance pleeeeeeease! (Although can you wait a few weeks - it's still lent and the Big Fella's been good with our deal so far). For now, I will stick on the mix tape I found on my memory box, and have a sing along to a warped version of The Bangles "Eternal Flame", and hope that some day my knight will sweep me off my feet. And hope that I can also work out how to block the scary man on match.com.
(If I suddenly go missing, it'll be him - please send crack team of spinsters and cats to track him down).
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