D.O.B. may be the acronym for Date of Birth but in my book it stands for Diva on Board. My inner Diva was provoked recently by an act of prejudice which – although it could be argued was self-induced – upset me just the same.
Now prejudice comes in many shapes and sizes but if you dissect the word, it means to pre-judge – i.e. form an opinion before not after the event.
The contretemps happened following a delightful dalliance with a gorgeous young stud who'd approached me on www.toyboywarehouse.com. Now I cannot alter the fact that I am a lady of a certain age. Because society conditions us to put people into categories, trying to re-educate them is a momentous task. Pushing the boundaries is what toyboywarehouse is all about, and I’m not talking about 35-year olds dating 28-year olds – that doesn’t constitute Toyboy Heaven in my world. To qualify at that level, he’d have to be 12 and I’d get arrested!
Everyone knows that the female (and many males) of the species have their own agendas when it comes to manipulating the truth for self-enhancement. A man will lie about the size of his portfolio; a woman will lie about her age. It’s not a crime…it’s often just a way of getting to first base. Hair, make-up, cosmetic surgery, Wonderbras, Magic Knickers – all have their place in the altered images Hall of Fame.
When I created my profile on the site, mindful of these social hang-ups and their influence, I made a tiny numerical adjustment to my d.o.b. Call me a cab but yes… I knocked ten years off my age. I reckoned that if any interested party saw the number ‘61’, he’d be a lot less interested than if the age box said ‘51’. He may even run away screaming – after all I am old enough to be a grandmother (but then again so’s a 30 year-old if she and her daughter got knocked up at 15!)
Anyway - back to my recent night of passion (would that I could!) with the afore-mentioned sexy, handsome, intelligent 22-year old who thought I was 51. (This was borderline for him as he’d made a decision not to date anyone older than his mum!) We got on wonderfully well on all the important levels, and everything came up except my age, until the morning after the night before, when he happened across the truth and recoiled in horror.
This was not one of those scenarios where a bloke’s picked up some slapper in a pub who looks like Gwen Stefani when he’s off his face, then turns into Quasimodo’s ugly sister early next morning. Toyboy and I had been sober when we met and built up to our congress with our eyes wide open and all our senses fully engaged.
But somehow, on discovering my deception, in his mind the woman between whose thighs he’d been more than happy to burrow mere hours before changed dramatically when the 5 became a 6. Because of some inbuilt societal brainwashing preconception, I had become a gnarled, warty, old witch with spiky hairs growing out of my chin. In reality of course, I was exactly the same slim, blonde, shapely, sensuous siren I had been when he thought I was 51!
OK so the kid felt misled. It’s probably not the first time and it certainly won’t be the last. But his good sense abandoned him because instead of focusing on the person he knew me to be, he focused on the media’s perception of a 61-year old, i.e. a little old grey-haired lady queuing for her pension in the local post office.
Catherine Deneuve, Goldie Hawn, Charlotte Rampling, Joanna Lumley, Susan Sarandon and Helen Mirren are all over 60 and I bet none of you guys out there would kick any of them out of bed!
I’ve ‘fessed up now and told the whole truth in my profile because I’m not ashamed and women over 60 are still fabulous. We do not lose our sexuality as we age, we gain mature allure. Ok, so our bosoms may no longer be under our chins but they are warmer and more welcoming than size zero bee stings.
And if any of you toyboys out there refuse to consort with me because of a silly number, then that’s your loss… You really don’t know what you may be missing…!