I Chose Pretty -- Friends With Benefits Over 50

Men have been doing it for at least a millennium and bragging about it. Choosing pretty, that is.

I'm a single and youthful 52, and I haven't been pretty in a long time. I am enthusiastic and outgoing and think that my personality is all kinds of pretty; but sun damage and weight loss have combined to create a perfect storm of not so pretty anymore. I'm actually good with that. I'm proud of my battle scars -- all of them.

However, as my contemporary male counterparts try and hang onto their youth by scoring younger chicks, the pool of available men dwindles to a puddle.

Or does it?

As a menopausal woman, I have a ton of shit going on in my body. What I have been told over and over and over again is that as I age I can anticipate my sex life basically swirling down the toilet along with last night's cost-prohibitive organic, vegan-friendly, heart-healthy supper. I'm not having any of that bull shit. No ma'am. In the last few years, I have felt my libido waning and I have wondered, "Is that all there is? Really?"

Well, lo and behold a major dietary change and subsequent shift in not only body chemistry but my brain chemistry, sent my libido through the roof. Like, seriously, through the roof. Like, OMG I have to masturbate at 2 p.m. through the roof.

Thank gawd I work from home.

I had been eyeballing an age appropriate bachelor for some time who was my ideal specimen; because let's face it, we all have bodily preferences. He was pretty and very physically attractive to me, but otherwise he was not my type. I don't typically go after the country club hanging, golf club swinging, lawyer types. But the pretty I had been dreaming about had moved from my mind into the crosshairs, and I needed to go in for the kill.

He was a 56-year-old stud and loved his time at the gym and I am physically attracted to men who are shaped like fire hydrants -- squat and powerful. Does that mean I won't choose otherwise? Oh, hell no, but If I'm looking strictly for a friend with benefits, I'm going after what I came for ... physical compatibility and chemistry. Chemistry is a good thing. We had chemistry, I could feel it. He didn't need a tailored suit to get my attention. His bike shorts and a t-shirt pushed me right over the edge.

We had been doing the dance for over a year -- flirting, innuendo, brief hugs and longing looks. I was fairly confident there was interest. He was on the back side of dating a woman just under 30 (no lie) and complaining about how difficult it all was.

"It's complicated," he had said.

Not for me. I saw my window of opportunity and went for it.

So, where am I going with all of this?

I am more alive today then I have ever been in my life. If you want to roll over and play dead as you age, go for it.

I'm not that gal.

I'm going to choose pretty.

I'm going to cross over into the next chapter of my life with my hair afire and a wide swath of glitter in my wake. F*#k getting old. I'm having NONE of it.

I said to him, "I haven't had a day off in six weeks and I'm finally free on Sunday. Let's do something together."

"Sure. How about we go to the museum," he replied and the date was officially set.

The time came, we made the drive and after several hours of art, steaks on his grill and a lovely evening of chatting, I went home!

Wait ... what?

When I got there I thought, What the hell am I doing here? I wanted to have sex with that man.

I got back in my car, drove to his house, knocked on his door and said,

"Ummm, yeah. I didn't want to be there, I want to be here."

Huge smile, violin music, and the first kiss unfolded. Then the clothes flew off in a flurry of activity, and we were in bed in a matter of minutes. Literally. It had been a long dance, and we had come to the end.

Many of us believe that on the backside of 50, life is over. Bullshit. In my mind, it's just beginning. I never would have shown up on his doorstep asking for what I wanted before I was 50. Never!

I chose pretty, and I'm glad I did.

We went at it like rabbits for a few weeks. Then I left. My temporary job ended and I traveled the 1,500 miles south to my home. He was never a contender for a long-term relationship. He was intelligent, witty, enthusiastic and physically very appealing, but we lived vastly different lifestyles. At my age, I have no interest in being with someone I'm not crazy about just so that I don't have to be alone.

I got many gifts from my time with this man, and I am eternally grateful for his affection and attention. I walked away with a smile on my face knowing two things for sure...

  • I am only as old as I want to be.
  • If I want something, I need to go and take it.
  • I feel a 40-year-old in my future.

    Yes. I. Do.

    Earlier on Huff/Post50:

    6 Kissing Tips