I have no idea why I didn’t do this sooner. Dating an older man is the most calming experience of my life. He discusses only three things—his investments, his espresso machine, and his flawlessly edited vinyl collection. And really? I just sit there, drink my coffee, and let him take care of everything else.
Occasionally, he’ll spend a whole morning in the kitchen, carefully measuring out coffee beans because somehow 0.2 grams is significant. At other times, he’ll sit me down and enthusiastically take me through the subtleties of his favorite jazz albums, telling me why one specific saxophone solo altered the course of music history. I just smile, nod, and say, “Wow, babe, that’s interesting.” Do I have any clue what he’s discussing? Not exactly. But he’s content, and I don’t have to contend with mayhem, so it’s a win-win.
Good part? No social media. No bizarre online battles. No texting games. Just a man who books dinner reservations two weeks in advance and actually shows up. Meanwhile, I’m reflecting on my past dating life, wondering why I ever bothered with dudes who couldn’t even make a commitment to a Saturday night engagement.