So what if he’s younger
How on earth did I get from living in a loft apartment in trendy Hoxton (yes, I had the obligatory exposed brick wall and it was so gorgeous I used to spend hours just admiring it) to sharing student digs in a provincial town in the south of Spain? Why did I give up a glamorous job as the foreign correspondent of a national TV station, to share a bathroom with complete strangers (who leave the toilet seat up, grrrrr…)? The answer to these questions, as you may have guessed, is: for Love. L-U-R-V-E in a big way. In fact the love for a younger man. But it’s not quite as simple as that.
To explain my lifestyle upside down, shake it all around; value system thrown on its head and smashed with a sledgehammer – I have to go back even further and then it becomes an interconnected list of what ifs. If I hadn’t have taken a sabbatical I wouldn’t have gone to Southeast Asia to write a novel. If I hadn’t spent 6 months in Buddhist, serene Cambodia I would never have decided to move away from hectic London to live by the sea in Ibiza. If I hadn’t lived in Ibiza, I would never have met the people who inspired me to go to India. And if I had never gone to India, I wouldn’t have met this man – who I now love more than my single nights in with a tub of Häagen Dazs and back to back Sex and the City repeats on E4.
I’d even say that meeting him in India – a place so far away from our Western obsession with age and time – made it possible to fall in love like I did. He is after all an conventional choice and a grand 15 years younger than I. Don’t get me wrong, I have dated younger men before (what a shame toyboywarehouse wasn’t around when I was single!). In fact, once I passed the 33 mark, younger men began hitting on me much more frequently than the older men who didn’t phone back.
My love – let’s just call him J for the sake of convenience – is also, as coincidence of coincidences would have it (or let’s say my mischievous angel of fate having a right old ball): A Spaniard. So I travel all the way to India and what do I meet: A Spanish man who lives just across the water from where I have decided to plant my new roots. It did make matters easier in terms of ‘dating’ after our whirlwind, honeymoon 2 week romance in Goa was over. And as all relationships go, we had/have our fair share of obstacles along the sweet-smelling, pine clad Mediterranean way.
So yes, I did find love in the arms of a younger man and he is everything I ever wanted but dear daters, the grass isn’t always greener. In this regular column I will be sharing some of the problems and joys I found in this age disparate union – it does after all have its own set of rules (“But those ovaries can’t still be intact, get your filthy hands off my son” etc.).
By Claudia Spahr
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