The 40-Year Flip
From Sweetheart to Silver Fox
Sometimes I look at my schedule and just grin. If my mom saw the color-coded blocks, she’d see “Client Meeting” and “Dinner with Friend.” If she saw the reality? She’d probably need a long talk with a priest and a very stiff drink.
I had such a fun start to my week. A dizzying, delicious, slightly sore-inducing three days bouncing between two completely different worlds, two different life stages, and two very different types of energy.
The Boy Next Door
Oh Ryan. The 24 year old, relatively innocent, all-American boy who smells like sandalwood and laundry detergent and has that messy brown hair that stays perfectly floppy no matter how many times I run my hands through it. We’ve been playing this cat-and-mouse game for a few weeks. He’s a friend of a friend and we met on a night out.
We’ve had some flirty texts which led to a proper Valentine’s dinner on Saturday night. It was adorable. We split a bottle of wine, laughed until my ribs ached, and ended up in a heated, breathless make-out session in his car. I wanted him badly, but I played it cool. A little mystery keeps the heart rate up, right?
Sunday afternoon, he came over to my place. The plan was to go grocery shopping together, which was really just an excuse for him to come over. Neither of use needed to shop that badly I guess, because as soon as he stepped inside, the “shopping” plan evaporated.
The sex was absolute perfection. There’s something about Sunday afternoon sun filtering through the blinds that makes everything feel so cinematic. Ryan is all lean muscle and earnest heat. It was raw and athletic. No scripts, no power plays, just three hours of pure, unadulterated “we’ve been waiting for this.” The couch, against the kitchen table. In my bed.