What’s My Age Again?

Afternoon, Fam!

So in May, I’ll be turning 25. 25 years old, fam! Jesus. Unfortunately, I won’t be 25 sitting on 25 mil but it will mean that it’ll have been ten years since I ended my freshman year of high school convinced that Dominque Adams, the most popular-beautiful-wearer-of-light-green-color-contacts-and-16”-Malaysian-weave-that-every-guy-and-some-baby-studs-would-give-their-left-nut-just-to-have-her-look-at-them-with girl in our grade was definitely leaning towards a hard-3/soft-4 on the Kinsey Scale after a slight hand-touching incident in English class one time (oh yes! my gaydar is that good), ten years since I ate an entire ice cream cake in my bed watching a Marissa Cooper-less The O.C. for my Birthday which I still only slightly regret, and most importantly, ten years since I was shipped off to Fat Camp, excuse me, “Weight-Loss” camp, in the Catskill Mountains of Upstate NY by my own doing so I could finally start to lose some weight because fantasizing about myself as a dashing young stud who could slick-talk the drawls off girls like Dominique Adams was becoming old and I was ready for my life to become like a B2K video starring me as Omarion or J-Boog at the very least! Man, how fast this creation we call Time goes!

Look at these angels!

Now, it’s nowhere near May but I’m thinking about this because last night, I went to go see Split at the movies and was actually CARDED for it. And fam, it’s not even Rated-R, it’s fucking PG-13. PG-13! Jesus. You should’ve seen the look on my date’s face when this amazingly kind and absolutely wonderful cashier told her that while she looked old enough, I didn’t. My date proceeded to state how she was “offended” the cashier would assume she was out with someone so young to which the cashier replied, adding insult to injury, she didn’t know, I could’ve been her little sister or something. Crazy! I, on the other hand, was basking in both the warmness of the many shots of Crown Apple we both had beforehand and also, the compliment of being told I look like a 12-year old meaning: YOUNG (especially since I’m actually a few months older than my date!) Ahh, is there any better rush than being told you look young? I mean, other than the first hit off a joint after a long day of work. I can’t tell you how many days I wake up thankful to have all this melanin coursing through me since this blackness will not be cracking anytime soon!

Here, look at these two icons laughing in Melanin.

I’m weird about age and getting older. I think it’s probably cause of a high school misreading of Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray” so I’ve absolutely always dreaded getting older in any capacity. I’ve just always felt the real beauty is in youth. Why else do older people spend so much time shrouded in clouds of nostalgia? Why else does my mother’s eyes well up when she talks about life in Detroit in the ’70s and how we will never know how good and different and pure things used to be? It’s always struck me as odd how much stock people put into who they used to be. But now that I am currently experiencing my last year apart of that “desirable” 18–24 demographic, I can’t help but start embracing my accumulated years and start thinking seriously about myself, my wants, my only older.

So my question to you this weekend, dear bois, is about age/aging: What’s your age limit when it comes to dating? Do you like ’em older? Younger? Your age or nothing?

I only ask because of my dope new roommate, Kai! An undeniable stud. She walks with a swagger I envy, speaks coyly to women as though flirting was her only language, and she’s already fucked three different women to my knowledge at our place it’s only been a month! She’s gotten baskets full of chocolate covered strawberries sent, lunches, promises of tickets to foreign places, hotel stays, the works. Nah, fam, I’m not jealous. You’re jealous!

What’s most interesting about Kai though is that despite her only being 24, these women? All 35 and up. Yup. Kai’s got a preference. The older, the better. Right now, she’s currently embattled in a love triangle with a 38-year old soon-to-be divorcee (that is if the woman actually follows through on leaving her husband) and already has a 16 year old!

It’s so crazy to me.

I’ve never dated anyone in their 30’s before or close to it since that one time in 2014 when I was talking to this 29-year old named Jen back in Chicago who came through one night when my roommates and I had taken a wild amount of shrooms and of course, were acting like people who are on a wild amount of shrooms usually do and I couldn’t help but feel so young! It was so strange. Now I don’t know if it was the psilocybin or just my infatuation for overthinking, but anytime I looked at her that night, I felt, as Drizzy Drake would and did say, more immature than Marques Houston!

“Only 90’s kids and Drake will remember these Kings

It was odd. Jen smoked hella weed and was down for a lot of stuff that had interested my little then 21-year old self even while holding down a real Grown Woman job during the day but something about knowing how much time was between us two left me turned off. We were a match in every single way but age. And because I couldn’t wrap my head around hers meant Jen wouldn’t be wrapping her legs around me.

We stopped talking shortly after that drug-filled night and I set my sights on a new girl my own age that had been in this Toni Morrison class I was taking at the time.

So I don’t know if I’ll ever give dating an older woman another shot, I mean, according to Kai, it may be good for me. It sure as hell looks like it would be good. So I dunno, maybe. I guess only time will tell.

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