Something very strange starts to happen to a woman in her forties – and I imagine in her fifties, sixties, and beyond: she enters her sexy older woman phase and young men in their twenties start to hit on her. Now, it’s not strange that women in middle age should be hit on – of course not, we are sexy as hell – but it can be very disconcerting when you are not expecting it. Largely because when you are in your forties, someone in their twenties looks extremely young. Like, insanely young. They don’t look like they should be trying to buy you a drink so much as a juice box.
At least, they do to me. Did you ever notice that doctors and police officers start to look really young once you’re firmly ensconced in middle age? Well so too do the 20-year-olds who start to hit on you. If a 22-year-old told me they were taking their GCSEs or couldn’t play out because they had to go home for their tea, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid.
There is a serious mismatch happening here. The young fella sees himself as suave, debonair and charming. His face, unbothered by the tedium of choosing a pension provider or the crushing weight of losing the guarantee on a Ninja air fryer. Cool and confident. Meanwhile, the object of his affection is trying to work out if she knows him from her son’s gymnastic squad.
