N-n-n-nineteen: toyboy du jour?
There is something irresistibly seductive about a 19-year old youth – a firm, fit, fabulous teen teetering on the brink of adulthood. Half boy, half man, he’s like a summer wine: young, fresh, sweet on the palate and very, very heady.
And now that artist and film director, Sam Taylor-Wood and the MP Iris ‘Mrs’ Robinson, have gone public with their affairs, 19 seems to be the optimum age for the toyboy du jour – an accessory at the very zeitgeist of dating fashion.
Before I tell my story, I must ask: what about the boy? Is he the innocent victim of a ‘cougar’ (hate that word!) or is he the manipulator: a savvy kid, confident of his irresistibility, who grabs the opportunity to propel himself from a manky, single mattress onto a luxuriously large, satin-sheeted bed? And all he has to do to maintain that position is perform an act which obsesses him 24/7 anyway which the older woman will teach him how to perfect.
My seduction by a 19-year old happened on the ski slopes of Switzerland one New Year’s Eve. Suffering from post-divorce stress, I’d taken my 16-year old daughter away on a Christmas break.
As I stepped out onto the balcony of our apartment to admire the view, I heard English voices coming from next door. I leaned over and spotted a young man standing there. ‘Just arrived?’ he asked. ‘I’m Ricky, by the way’ and he stuck out his hand.
Ricky was tall, dark and handsome, staying with his cousins in the adjoining flat. I asked about local restaurants and he suggested we join them for dinner. We had a great evening and all skied together the following day.
I thought Ricky to be about 27, certainly too old for Lily and of no interest to me. The last thing I was needed was another man. A younger one wasn’t even on my radar!
Ricky seemed confident and mature, though and I enjoyed talking to him. He was an ace skier and went off piste during the day, but always met us for lunch and dinner.
One night we went out to a busy bar. I spotted a pinball machine and decided to play. Ricky sauntered over and asked if I knew how. ‘Not really’ I laughed, ‘but I’ll have a go!’
He came and stood hard up behind me. He put his arms around my waist and covered my hands with his. He began flipping the flippers, jerking me this way and that as the little ball pinged frantically to and fro. I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. It made me tingle all over.
I couldn’t work out if he was trying to get off with me, or just vaunting his pinball skills with me as the conduit. He was wearing a thick polo neck, black jeans and an aviator jacket. We were both getting very hot.
When the game ended, an indeterminate look passed between us. I dismissed it. There was no way he was flirting with me. What possible interest could he have in a twice-divorced woman with a teenager in tow?
The following night was New Year’s Eve. With everyone on the dance floor, and the fear of finding myself alone at midnight, I agreed to Ricky’s suggestion to go back to the apartments. There was a blizzard brewing. We hurried in out of the storm and took the lift up to our floor.
His room was halfway down the corridor. Mine was next door. We stopped at his. He ran his hand along the architrave and found the key. He pushed the door open and stood back for me to enter. I hesitated for a heartbeat then went in. The door swung shut. He locked it, took off his bomber jacket and slung it over a chair.
He turned to face me, grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him. I stumbled slightly then fell into his arms. It all went very quickly after that. Alcohol, altitude and the arrogance of youth are a dangerous combination. That night, I succumbed to all three.
When we’d finished, I lay there reeling. Then I sat up on one elbow and asked:
‘How old are you?’
‘19’ he replied with no trace of discomfort.
I sank back onto the pillows not knowing whether to laugh or cry. The last time I looked, I was 42.
Iris Robinson’s Kirk McCambley is no longer by her side. Sam Taylor-Wood’s Aaron Johnson should stick around for a while. He is fathering her child, after all. So how will it feel to become a dad at 20? And when he’s 40, to have a 20-year old? Is this desirable or disastrous? Will he love and support her, or take off to live his own life?
Whatever happens, their experiences will never be forgotten. I still remember my first with a smile, some wonderment and above all, no regret. It was flattering, life-enhancing and sexually rewarding and set the benchmark for my toyboy adventures which have continued to this day.
And best of all, Ricky and I are still ‘friends’. He’s married now – to an older woman! – but we often talk about our crazy New Year’s Eve and meet up when time and geography allow.
So bring on the 19-year olds and let us show them the way! Then we can send them off with some life experience beneath their belts and reap our own benefits as we go.
Wendy Salisbury aka Poshbird is the author of ‘The Toyboy Diaries 1 & 2’ and you can follow her blog on www.wendysalisbury.com
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