Quantum

Something happened when I turned, I don’t know, thirty-six, thirty-seven, something like that, and it happened without me really realising it at first. A new niche of man entered the chat, and it took me completely by surprise, in all the best and worst ways.

And that man, is a boy.

I’ve had one motto for my entire dating life: no younger guys.

*with the exception of that boy. Shit, maybe also this one, but that was by accident.

They weren’t mature enough, emotionally developed enough, settled in life enough, yadda yadda yadda. The list of reasons why I wouldn’t even so much as look at a younger guy was endless. Literally endless. If I were to start listing them, we’d probably be here all day. I find older men attractive. Always have, always will. 

But life has a funny way of making you eat your words, doesn’t it?

Well, for a while, anyway.

Enter: Quantum

Ladies, if you’re in the market for a fluffy, kinky, fun little ego boost, you need to find yourself a younger man. Those kids put in the work, and they’re damn good at it, too. Daaaaaamn good at it. A little cocky and arrogant, but still willing to be vulnerable, it’s almost a reminder of how dating used to feel, before disappointment, heartbreak, and the stirrings of a jaded outlook started to set in.

Quantum was cute. And cocky. And the right amount of arrogant. Intelligent. Interested in me. Honest, though sometimes too much. Hilarious. Patient. Asked questions. Nerdy in the cute way. Eccentric in interesting ways. Hot. So smart. Too smart for his own good, but he taught me something new every single day. Kind. Generous. All the other good adjectives that made me forget that I don’t date younger guys.

We talked for hours about politics and quantum physics and the ways of the world. Laughed for even longer. Started conversations that went well into the night, then never stopped…

It was so similar to Sambuca.

Too similar.

 “You’re not actually my ex, are you?” I asked in a half-jokey way. I knew it wasn’t him, of course… but still, it really was too similar.

Quantum dropped the same little phrases into messages that Sambuca had used. He called me the same pet name, had the same messaging and nap schedules, used the same handful of emojis in messages, cracked the same innuendos, lived in the same-ish part of the country…

It was weird.

“No, I’m definitely not him,” Quantum laughed (thankfully,) sending over a few more photos of himself to definitely prove it.

Nope, definitely not Sambuca’s chest.

Also: fit.

Not my usual type, but definitely very nice to look at.

And… you know… he was my Sambuca substitute.

Distance date

Due to the two hundred miles between us, Quantum and I decided to have a “distance date” first – watching the same movie, at the same time, chatting all the way through. I chose Interstellar, one of my favourites, plus he hadn’t seen it. A handful of tech issues and false starts later, we finally pressed play.

We watched, talked, theorised, flirted, mocked, paused-and-researched, and pondered for long after the film had finished, right into the early hours of the next morning. It was honestly one of the most interesting dates/non-dates I’ve ever had – and I’ve had some really great dates. I could’ve happily discussed movies, space theories, and the theory of relativity with him for hours without getting bored, and I did.

We were getting closer, too. I’d shared some of my “real life” with him, and vice-versa. Photos and videos started to show more and more skin. I started smiling at his texts. Conversations became a little spicier. Cough, a lot, cough. Once-jokey comments about joining him on work trips turned into something I wanted to make a reality.

That’s when I realised, I liked him.

As in, really liked him.

But why?

It made no sense

What did we have in common? Very little. Barely anything, actually. His life goals didn’t align with mine. He was cute and funny and smart, but he wasn’t the kind of man I wanted… or the type of man I’d be happy with. He was too flirtatious for me, too young for me, too socially awkward for me, needed teaching too much for me, wanted completely different things to me. He would want a family one day. I don’t ever want that. On paper (and in all other ways) it was doomed for failure. It just didn’t make sense.

It all came down to one thing: he was too damn young for me.

Maybe two things, actually, because I don’t think I’m ready to be a cougar just yet.

Plus, there was that other thing, but we’ll save that for the next blog post.

Who doesn’t love a cliffhanger?

The next post in the dating timeline is this one: This is My Confession.