Double standards about ageing

A friend wanted advice about her younger guy crush. I said age gap was the least of her worries-more important is values, if he's a decent guy that genuinely cares and encouraged her to enjoy it. She praised me for being a wise woman, but I'm not so sure. I'd already asked A to meet me before an early film, as I didn't want an epistolary friendship, which I find ambiguous when you throw in gender and age differences. Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth, that's for sure. He said yes, straight away, consistent with previous response times, and also arrived ten minutes before the time, messaging to say the bookshop was closed but he was sitting nearby and would wait. Well, I could have kissed him for that, and told him to keep hovering, and for politeness, exactly how close I was, thinking of a beloved & tardy friend who says they are close even when they haven't left home, uncool of me, but very kind. 

As I approached, like Clarissa Dalloway, I wondered if he would be as I remembered, and what additional effort he would make for me: fortunately, effort was visible, whilst quaintly nerdy.  Short sleeves, shorts, socks and lace up shoes, think country clerk Tom Long in Seachange, or James in Opal Dreams. We walked to Cinema Place, detouring to a music shop where I bought a CD though I actually wanted him to try on vintage fashion. I was surprised he was even taller than I remembered, but ungainly, sat twisted on the chair like Guilio in his pre-Japan days, not a guy that claims his physical space, but too tall to disappear as he tried. I'm sure he has some experience as he has the intellectual confidence, but it's not morphed into spatial awareness. (Noting my spatial awareness can be absent, when overwhelmed by versions of anxiety). 

Part of me felt shameless about drinking at the fountain of hot guy dopamine, but there is a part of me that wonders why I didn't do this years ago-spend time with the object of my affection or imagination, instead of dorks I found dull. Yes, yes, I know it has nowhere to go, but I feel this minor crush is the least I deserve, given climate change and endemic violence against not only women, but people who think the way I do, instead of tolerance for differences, or more to the point, reciprocation. Hmmm. 

We sat at a cafe, and familiar but unknown identities, streamed past, including the 'women with a mustache' who once worked at Writers SA before? Who knows where that kind of project officer work leads, but in her case, it involves watching films and fashionable eccentricity so maybe she invested well or inherited money. We only had ten minutes before my session so before I made my farewells and suggested he catch the good public transport, I prompted him to pick his favourite area of health, having soap boxed about my current obsessions, and, bless him, he has a deep passion for older women's wellbeing and their chronic pain, having once worked on the phones answering calls from women who were unclear about the title of the service, given the absence of women specific services. I riffed a bit, skipping past the whole birth experience, baby blues, body shape changes, society pressure to do it all, the economics of a yummy mummy, went straight for HRT and incorrect evidence it increases risk of breast cancer, when the absence of HRT (when needed) can result in crippling anxiety, disrupted sleep joint pain, divorce, under employment and precarious housing that comes with lost capital. 

I said this quite succinctly, I thought, opting not to talk about hospitals and absence of females in design brief, despite making up 70% of the workforce, or t misdiagnosis of women with mental illness that wouldn't exist if they received early support, and its cheerful stuff, isn't it. The public, the personal, which I didn't share-praised me for my body, post birth, because I walked everywhere with my full term healthy baby who slept through the night and how my second child took longer to breast feed and although I was a healthy weight, my body shape changed as did my energy levels and taking longer leave to be with him meant I entered my forties happy and healthy but juggling work and parenting two children led to burn out and belated realising my health was irreplaceable. 

You can see how cheerful this conversation was (not), and I talked about not wanting to work in my former area of practice, he said "oh, the cases must be hard" and I corrected him, it was the conditions, 'transactional' and I nodded, 'keyword'. He talked of trust and I talked about how my supervisor recognised which lecturer I'd had, and models of thinking, span pragmatic and philosophical, why I will take my time to enter the field, and of the psychologist I see, for historical trauma, not to do with current work (as he'd asked if I miss it, and I'd told him I'd outgrown the building which affected my enjoyment of professional life, he said he's there until I return, and I assured him he'll be extended and he agreed, asked how was New Zealand and I reminded him I haven't even left the city, sigh. I explained my psychologist encouraged me to hold two apparent truths, or tensions, inside one conversation and to be a partner in the therapeutic outcome, and that had influenced how I wanted to practice, one day. He likes to talk of this stuff, and he's worked in some interesting areas already, including internships and study, more exposure than I managed in two decades, I stuck to a very narrow perspective, he's researched. 

Noble thinking emerges as a result of the exchange, perhaps that's what happens when an attractive person shows intelligence, it elevates everything (thinks of whether any males in parliament besides Andrew Leigh have this effect, unlikely, my supervisor said you only survive this work we do by having a faith in a higher order). Within that, I don't know if there's room for tension about having someone and wanting someone else, those who are used to servicing their ego are not my kind of person. A friend reminded me how friendship may suffice and the issue of timing. Some of my friends have absolute certainty in their life partner, free of doubts, these being people who are comfortable ordering their significant other to make their life even more pleasurable than it already is, no camping or sacrifices or going without for them, but I diverge.  I chose well in some ways and poorly in others, which is not a criticism of my partner, but mismatch of habits and routines that make life less easy, and they wouldn't be my choice now, but were my choice for a shared love of domestic life, gardens and child rearing. 

I found a journal in which I describe a past boyfriend as my perfect guy, whilst acknowledging how his moral views (on public health of all things!) alienated me, before I could evaluate if his habits and routines would lead to my fulfilment in married life, he being that sort of person and having those sorts of feelings for me. Some admirers think I'm pretty/funny, which is easy to accept as a compliment, but others are moved by a reflection of something inside them. I have no idea what this guy sees in me or how he feels in my company, I sense I'm performing, not being, though I've experienced many years of second looks and verbal comments I instinctively ignore, not interested in attention from strangers, but this is a cute nerd connection I want to foster, and so now I care about my looks, but I don't want him to be superficial, I want a soul mate, one of many soul mates we meet in life, here's hoping. 

I watched and admired Jane Fonda's award-winning performance in Klute, and even, her acceptance speech, where she acknowledged the blacklisting for anti-Vietnam views, "there's a lot of things that could be said, but they're for another time". So much dignity, I forgive her plastic surgery, which extended her public visibility, same for Dolly Parton, RIP. (In the background, I must acknowledge my personal anguish that Helen Haines, MP, with the qualities we all should aspire to, just like our recently retired governor, is still in a critical condition, thanks to someone that will claim incapacity. 

So, crushes elevate us from mundanity, the quiet blanket of security, and why can't I have this for myself, the smile of certain uncertainty, he must know, he asked enough questions and listened to the answers, to know he can be my friend, there is a shared language. How to be open to these things and not project ahead, without neglecting other people, who need me more, like my family and friends. But then again, my family and friends are my foundation, but not they don't take me to their pinnacle. 

Underneath all this, and changes I instigated, professionally and personally, when I keep my head down and swim in my own lane, I feel the strength returning, energy is back, today was 30 days of not drinking a drop that would cause lability, disrupted sleep or fears that I can't name, or face. I have something unique and don't need to shrink or share vulnerabilities with anyone who hasn't earned trust. 

The film I saw, Wilderness, was worth leaving home for, with or without the catch up; carefully filmed by the DOP in the Victorian Alps, capturing the sights and sounds of the creatures that visit, bees, birds and moths, bringing to mind how my disappointment led to Olive Cotton's photography. There was also a deliberately ambiguous section, in which an injured female hiker is found and soothed, by a guy providing a protective hug, like a boyfriend would give to make you think he's a keeper, you'd burrow into his arms but then the dream sequence darkens, and it's a nightmare. Perhaps the best indication I was watching work by people at the top of their game, both female leads great, the cinematography strong and only the editing could have been slightly tighter, but I'm still thinking about it. And the guy.