‘I only date younger men’
Freelance journalist Katreen Hardt may be 51, but she prefers men who are considerably younger…
Afriend introduced me to Dylan when I was 47. He was gorgeous, a personal trainer with blue eyes and blond curls. At 27, he was also two decades younger than me.
I’d just signed up for a Tough Mudder endurance challenge, so when Dylan offered to train me, I leapt at the chance. Soon we were going on 10K runs four times a week.
The day he asked me out on a date, I was so excited. After cheap Italian food (it was all he could afford), we headed back to my flat. The minute I closed the door, he kissed me and we made passionate love right there in the hall.
More than once, Dylan told me how sexy I looked – my flat stomach and slender hips, he said, resembled those of a 20-year-old.
While most women my age might be flattered by such a compliment, I wasn’t surprised. I’ve been told the same thing by younger men on numerous occasions.
Which is why I was appalled when French author Yann Moix recently announced that he preferred ‘young women’s bodies’ and that ‘the body of a 25-year-old woman is extraordinary. The body of a 50-year-old woman is not extraordinary at all.’
His ignorance – and arrogance – is staggering. My body is far more extraordinary now than it was two-and-ahalf decades ago.
I no longer smoke, nor do I go out drinking every weekend. I exercise five times a week, get plenty of sleep and eat a mostly vegetarian diet. My body reflects these life changes – I’m leaner and far more toned. My complexion is glowing and smooth.
Most men of 50, however, make little or no effort with their looks. In my experience, men that age are generally overweight and out of shape – and the thought of sleeping with one makes my skin crawl.
I haven’t always dated much younger men. Until 2012, I was in a relationship with Thomas, just three years my junior. We’d met online in 2009, then decided to try for a family after our third date.
I’d never longed to be a mother, but at 41, I could hear my biological clock.
Then, after two failed IVF attempts, Thomas decided he no longer loved me – no explanation was given.
Moving out of our home left me devastated. Any desire for a baby died the day we said goodbye.
Although it took me years to recover, in 2014 my girlfriends
encouraged me to date again. Like so many middleaged daters, I found myself experimenting with Tinder.
A whole new world was opened to me by simply adjusting my search to include (or exclude) a particular age group. It’s not that I sought out younger men, but rather, younger men were suddenly pursuing me.
As messages filled my inbox, I was tickled, if slightly put off by them being only a wee bit older than my eldest nephew.
Still, I reasoned, I had nothing to lose.
One girlfriend, married for 25 years, was horrified. She advised concentrating my search on men between 55 and 65, as an older man would offer stability.
Possibly, yes. But if there was anything my relationship with Thomas had taught me, it was that stability can’t always be relied upon.
What followed was a series of hilarious and fun-filled dates with men aged from 26 to 37. They left me beaming with confidence, and the majority of my girlfriends green with envy.
My liaison with trainer Dylan didn’t last, as he went travelling around New Zealand. But there was George, who’d pick me up on his motorcycle. And Archie, who took me to a climbing centre for our first date. And Leo, a trainee massage therapist, who insisted on giving me hour-long rub-downs!
Then Charlie, who felt uncomfortable in the French bistro I’d chosen as he’d only been to fast-food restaurants. And James, who showed up with £20 for the evening, bought me an extravagant bunch of roses, then was shocked to discover he hadn’t enough money for drinks.
Although some were a little lacking in polish, they all charmed me with their eagerness. One confessed he’d always had a thing for older women. Another told me I was ‘ hot’ and that age wasn’t an issue. I was astonished.
And while things often didn’t get as far as a physical encounter, when they did it was the most exciting sex I’ve ever had. Their bodies were honed, their sex drives insatiable.
Meanwhile, the blokes I met up with in their fifties were set in their ways and rude, talking endlessly about themselves or belittling me with snide comments. Monsieur Moix seems to be a prime example.
He says he is ‘incapable of loving’ a woman over 50, a statement so preposterous it can’t be taken seriously. Does he assume all women my age have let their bodies go? Or is his rudeness a smokescreen, because he knows no mature woman would put up with such arrogant and sexist thinking? Unlike Moix, I’d never rule out dating a man over 50 so long as he was unmarried, in good shape, interesting to talk to and knew how to treat a lady.
The thing is, I’ve never met one. And if there’s anyone I’m ‘incapable of loving’, it’s a man who is disrespectful, regardless of his age. At a Christmas ball in December, I met Sascha, a handsome, tall, 44-year-old architect with sparkling eyes. We danced and, four hours later, he kissed me gently and bade me goodnight.
When we met the following weekend, I was so nervous, I could barely look at him. I find him authentic and funny. He’s attracted to me not only physically, but because I’m an adult, experienced woman.
We’re compatible in bed and young at heart – half the time, we’re making each other laugh. He doesn’t judge or try to control me; he is neither condescending, nor patronising.
In other words, Sascha makes me feel good about myself – and the woman it has taken me over 50 years to become.
‘The blokes I met up with in their fifties were set in their ways and rude’