My ex and I had just done the deed. He held me close, and I lied there unperturbed, trying to soak up the moment, but all I could take in was the smell. His bedroom reeked of sweat, socks and pizza.
Conversations with my ex usually panned out this way. He was 25 and reckless, and I objective it with him because I had enough of his crudity. Im 25, too, but I find myself straddling the fine line between outgrown reckless and inceptive responsibility.
I left the relationship with one objective and one objective merely — I no longer wanted a boy; I wanted a man.
I didn’t know how I’d get there, but I knew I wanted to tread cautiously.
Social experimentations have become my new favorite way to spend my hour. Theyre a style to connect with the world without having to commit to any one person and to learn about love from an objective standpoint.
Ive reduced dating to a science. The breakup left my heart sore and my they are able to trust sour, so removing the possibility of falling in love from the equation altogether seemed as though the best alternative. For now, anyway.
It was time to explore the path to my dreaming guy. Ive often pictured him a little something like this: British, chivalrous, strapping and tall, with the intellect of a man but the vigor of a boy.
So when I pitched my next story idea to my editor — A Date With A 20 -Something Vs. A Date With A 30 -Something — I assumed Id vibe better with the 30 -something. After all, it isnt common interests, but common values that sustain a relationship( or so Ive been told ).
I eagerly jumped into my assigning, attaining sure to keep my expectations low but my head high. The goal was to find out the commonalities and differences between a 20 -something dude and a 30 -something dude both looking for love in New York City. So I dated one of each.
My datewitha 34 -year-old…
Name : Brian* Where hes from : Born in Manhattan, raised in Staten Island Occupation : Digital Designer/ Independent Business Owner Description : Brown hair; big, brown eyes; endearingly lanky frame that he wholly knew how to style; soft, calm expression that quieted my constantly overdriven mind.
Brian and I met at Brass Monkey, a bar in Manhattans Meatpacking District. During a night out with my girlfriends, he approached me at a bar and bought me a drinking. We exchanged numbers, and he initiated the texting. We briefly texted about our favorite literature to read on rainy days before agreeing to meet up in Madison Square Park.