Girls Night Out: Meatpacking District

Last weekend, my friend Bobbi and I enjoyed a girls night out in NYC’s Meatpacking District.

Agave: adobe walls and flickering candles contribute to the hip yet relaxed atmosphere at this Mexican eatery

Over dinner and a shared pitcher of sangria at lively Mexican eatery Agave, we talked about past and present affairs of the heart -- from our respective experiences of cops being major players to our different takes on May-December romance.

Bobbi is having fun with a twentysomething personal trainer-aspiring rapper. I prefer men who are my contemporaries or older, having had three boyfriends who were approximately 15 years my senior, and parents with a 25- year spread between them.

Later, Bobbi and I encountered a well-coiffed mixture of twenty and thirtysomethings at a crowded bar across from Pastis. Just when we were about to call it a night after a few glasses of wine, a tall, adorable guy with an Australian accent brushed past us with a group of male friends.

Originally from Melbourne, he introduced himself as Dave and quickly reminded me why Aussies have a reputation for being great storytellers.

Dave told us the tale of how he met his most recent girlfriend. While traveling to Africa, he found himself naked when his clothes were stolen during an afternoon of skinny dipping. His soon-to-be sweetheart stumbled upon him and took pity on his embarrassing situation, and so a romance was born.

Which just proves that you never really know when Cupid is going to strike. And that it’s preferable to be fully clothed when he does.

Dinner With A Sweetheart From Long Ago

Thursday, after my action-packed experience at Fashion Week, I met up for dinner with my old flame Alain.

Like many blasts from the past these days, this one came about through Facebook. Now married and living in Helsinki, Alain reached out and I was excited to hear from him. Fifteen years my senior, he was my first experience of May-December romance back in the day.

It had been well over a decade since we’d last seen each other, so we had lots to talk about over dinner at Accademia di Vino.

Accademia di Vino: Alain and I talked about life, love and tennis over dinner at this UES hotspot

We talked about timing and the role it plays in finding happily ever after. Alain said it was when he decided he was going to take a break from the New York dating scene that the tide turned. Alain started hearing from several old girlfriends, but it was on the tennis court where he met his match.

Months later, when his Finnish-born sweetheart proposed by declaring they were getting married in her hometown, he was more than happy to say yes. As he shared this, I couldn’t help thinking that, when you find your life’s partner, the semantics of how you wind up together don’t seem to matter so much.

As he did many so years ago, Alain demonstrated that he’s one of the good guys.

“I couldn’t leave this earth,” he told me, “without telling you how sweet you are.”

Wow.

Coming up…a new author’s delectable approach to dating and a look at how to break up without being mean.

Opening The Vault: Part Forty Nine

Breaking up is hard to do, especially when it’s with someone who’s treated you like a princess. Back in ‘97, my second and final split from then-boyfriend Larry had me guilt ridden over hurting such a great guy.

A 16-year age difference proved to be too much for us to overcome, as I realized I wasn’t ready to settle down. Still, after a year together and one brief trial split, saying goodbye wasn’t easy.

I now Open The Vault and take you back to January of 1997...

January 28th, 1997

New York, NY

Dear Diary,

Larry and I broke up again the other night -- and this time I think it’s for good.

Unlike our previous split (I initiated both), this separation was not the result of an impulse to retaliate for anything. When I ended things back in October, it was primarily because he had let me down when I needed him most.

Ironically, more so than he ever did before -- and that’s saying a lot -- Larry treated me like a princess these last couple of months. Casting off internal demons that had kept him somewhat closed off, he revealed a tender, romantic streak the likes of which I’d never seen in a man before.

Suddenly, the “little things” whose absence I’d once lamented were part of what we shared -- flowers for no reason, unexpected phone calls, expressions of love.

But sadly, all of this came as I realized receiving Larry’s affections without being able to commit to him was selfish and unfair. After giving so much to our relationship, he deserves more than the emotional limbo I’ve led him into.

In an email today, Larry indicated the door is still ajar for yet another reprise between us. As much as I miss him, though, and wish I could ignore what is standing in our way, I don’t think we can reconcile.

* * *

February 7th, 1997

Larry and I emailed back and forth last week and I called him a few days ago. As always, he was full of love and understanding. He said he still wants to be my best friend, that no matter what he wants to be part of my life.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t thinking about you,” he said softly.

“I miss you,” I said.

“I miss you too,” he replied.

It was a wonderful, comforting conversation, one that made me hopeful about the possibility of us remaining in touch.

* * *

Larry and I would indeed stay connected. And my post-breakup blues about us would soon be lifted by the return of an old flame, just in time for Valentine’s Day.

Musing About May-December Love

When it comes to May-December romance, I’m about as intimately acquainted with it as Mr. and Mrs. Kutcher.

Ashton and Demi: the poster couple for May-December love

My first two boyfriends were 16 years older than me. And my late and much-loved parents (who adored each other) had a 25-year age difference between them.

For as much, though, as I’ve always been and continue to be drawn to older men, I know the May-December dynamic isn’t for everyone. And that in some cases, it’s downright creepy.

Take, for example, the sixty year old guy who recently emailed my 25-year-old friend Diana through a dating site -- eight times. In his ninth attempt to make contact, he asked why she wasn't responding to his messages.

“Sorry,” she said politely. “I think our age difference is too steep and I'm just not interested. Thanks, though, and good luck!"

His response, as another friend of mine quipped, suggests he hasn’t dealt with rejection since the Reagan years--

“I'm surprised that someone who claims to be so sweet would make a nasty, gratuitous comment like that. A simple no would have been fine. That comment was very nasty for no reason. But I feel better as I never want to be with a mean person and that was, needlessly, mean. I bet I still see your [profile] for a long time.”

I guess even among the AARP set, ettiquette is fleeting in cyberspace.

Up next…drinks with a member of NY’s Finest and Single Gal In The City--the book?

Opening The Vault: Part Twenty Seven

In a long distance relationship, you have to work twice as hard to stay together -- especially when there’s a 16-year age difference. That struggle intensified as I approached one year of dating my California-based sweetheart Mark (a.k.a. Sparky).

After two tumultuous encounters back to back, we decided to start dating other people. The tricky part -- though this was understood, we never explicitly talked about it.

As the younger half of our May-December romance, I was craving a male distraction of the local variety. Sure enough, during the second half of my senior year in college, that’s exactly what I got. I now Open The Vault to Volume #57 and take you back to the spring of 1995...

March 7, 1995
Mount Holyoke College,
South Hadley, MA

Dear Diary,

I had a date tonight with Dave, a DJ I met last Friday at a campus party.

Amazingly enough, I actually had a good time -- he’s cute, funny and impressed with my vocabulary. I even enjoyed the goodnight kiss. He was polite enough to ask if he could kiss me.

Mount Holyoke: My beloved alma mater was the backdrop for an unexpected senior year romance

“Could I make a strange moment any stranger?” Dave quipped, before leaning down to lock lips. He’s tall too -- a nice change from Sparky.

I realize that a lot of what made tonight enjoyable was that I wasn’t overanalyzing every little thing that happened. I have a bad habit of doing that with Sparky.

We spoke today.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

"Can't I just be calling to say I love you without an ulterior motive?"

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I know you, you’re pondering something.”

I was -- the possibility of going to LA next month.

Sparky lamented about his financial situation, mentioning the recent $500 bill from our Valentine’s excursion to The Poconos. I thanked him again for the trip and he said--

“I have to save for graduation.”

He made it sound like this milestone in my life was special for him too. Like he has every intention of being there.

* * *

March 13, 1995

I had a great time again with Dave. He had me laughing quite a bit -- and also wondering if there’s anything left to salvage between Sparky and I.

After a movie, Dave suggested we go for a walk on campus. We sat on a bench by the lake. He took my face in his hands and kissed me, eventually nibbling on my neck and earlobe.

As he put his arms around me and took my hand in his, Dave told me I’m terrific and incredible. When I returned the compliment, he said--

“That’s because I’m kissing you.”

Back at the dorm, there was a message on my machine from Sparky. I called him back and he asked where I’d been. I lied and said I was out with a girlfriend. I felt kind of duplicitous, but it’s better than feeling miserable -- which is what I’ve had enough of with Sparky.

* * *

My romance with Dave ended up getting me through more than just the long-distance blues. Dave would be right by my side when carelessness on my part led me to a brush with death.

Opening The Vault: Part Twenty Six

Of star-crossed lovers, Shakespeare once wrote parting is such sweet sorrow. That was equally true following my first big fight with long-distance love Mark (a.k.a Sparky).

A tumultuous visit with Sparky in L.A. ended with a war of words at LAX. Though Sparky later apologized in a heartfelt letter, I felt very guarded when he came east for our next encounter two months later. I now Open The Vault to volume #57 and take you back to February of 1995...

February 15th, 1995
Lake Harmony, PA -- The Poconos

Dear Diary,

Mark has been more loving, attentive and generous with me than ever. The problem is I don’t feel the ‘glowy’ response I usually do with him.

Because of our horrible goodbye in December..I can’t just pick up where we left off before. We parted last time in very different places emotionally -- which is kind of a metaphor for how far apart we are in other ways too.

On The Boardwalk: Atlantic City was the second stop during a Valentine’s getaway with Sparky, February 1995

The age difference that has made our relationship so stimulating is revealing its drawbacks more and more.

He told me the other night he doesn’t want to have more children unless he can have them with me. This sentiment scares me, now that I’m realizing how unlikely it is that desire will become a reality.

Valentine’s Day was wonderful. At dinner last night, Mark acknowledged the uncertainty of our future and said we should just see each other whenever we can. At one point, he had a dreamy look on his face.

“I was just savoring the moment,” he explained.

Maybe that’s what I need to do.

* * *

Mark is upstairs smoking a joint right now. Admittedly, he has a bad back and pot helps alleviate the pain, but his use of it upsets me. Probably because it's a depressing reminder of just how starkly different our life's experiences have been.

* * *

February 17th, 1995

Mark asked me today--

“Do you want to cool things off a little, or stop seeing each other?”

I said no, but the truth is I don’t know what I want right now. We’ve shared so much, I don’t want to give up on us without a fight.

* * *

The battle to get back on solid relationship ground with Sparky continued after our Valentine’s getaway. Little did I know that, as our one-year anniversary approached, we would face our greatest challenge yet.

By The Numbers: College Edition

Tonight, I had the pleasure of catching up with my former colleague Danielle and her delightful co-worker Tim. Over drinks at Dive 75 on the Upper West Side, we talked about post-breakup reconnecting with friends, revisiting old flames and memories of college sweethearts.

Both in their twenties, Danielle and Tim also mentioned some of the local bars they visited during their underage years, which got me to thinking about my own days as a college student. Both Mount Holyoke and my junior year in London delivered a healthy dose of memorable experiences with the opposite sex. Here's a look back at my college years - By The Numbers.

Number of romantic distractions during my junior year abroad: 5
Number of students at U-Mass dated: 2
Number of U-Mass boyfriends who happened to be an elementary school classmate: 1
Number of long-distance relationships: 1
Number of professional mountain bikers (with a body like Lance Armstrong) dated: 1
Number of cars crashed in anticipation of a date with said mountain biker: 1

I was doing triple the speed limit in a 25 mph zone the night I crashed my Nissan Sentra on the way to seeing Dave, my sexy, sweet mountain biker beau. Though the car didn’t make it, I was very fortunate to walk away unscathed…and straight into Dave’s arms. Later, he comforted me with a delicious plate of pesto pasta -- and an equally delectable serving of his intoxicating kisses.

Dave was one of the highlights of my senior year -- and a much-needed distraction from my long-distance love in California.

Coming up…my personal pantheon of best kisses and the allure of May-December romances.

Renewing Old Flames

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of watching my aunt and uncle celebrate their 25th anniversary by renewing their wedding vows. The ceremony was doubly moving given their history together – teenage sweethearts who married young, divorced after three years, then found their way back to one another.

As I watched them promise to always be there for each other, I couldn’t help thinking about second chances in love, and about some of the old flames that I’ve revisited over the years.

Brooklyn-born financial analyst Larry set a standard that few other suitors have been able to match in terms of both courting and smarts. His dizzying intellect captivated me (and had me consulting a dictionary on more than one occasion despite my background as an English major), while his insistence upon making an event out of every evening we shared took us on a regular tour of NYC’s most romantic restaurants.

It took two breakups—precipitated mostly by a 16-year age difference that found us at different places in our lives—for me to walk away from this teddy bear of a guy. We nevertheless kept in touch, and nearly a decade later, rekindled the sparks between us. Unfortunately, timing was once again our foe, as I was on the rebound from another relationship.

Southern Illinois native Steve and I first crossed paths as I was wrapping up my Midwestern stint as a local TV reporter. The intoxicating chemistry between us led me to change my return flight to New York three times. A true romantic with the soul of a poet, Steve reawakened my heart after a long, lonely year and a half of being alone and trying to come to terms with my mother’s death.

Geography, among other things, got in the way and we called it quits after a few months—until finding our way back to each other the following year. Though part-time paramours is all that fate ultimately had in mind for us, I’m glad we didn’t let that stand in the way of trying again. We remain good friends and Steve is now happily married.

Though reconciling with Larry and Steve didn’t culminate in happily ever after, my aunt and uncle are living proof of the joy that can come from revisiting old flames. After all, love is always worth the gamble.