Columnist
‘I’m in the mood to do something wild, aren’t you?’
As we come blinking out of the long, dark winter like newborn field mice, we’re all looking forward to some fun. I’m in the mood to do something wild, aren’t you? But what? Dye my hair blue? Pierce my navel? Maybe take up something that I’ve never tried before – tango, wild swimming, skydiving, a toy boy…
Well, why not? Why can’t we gals grow old disgracefully, just like the fellas? I mean, somewhere right now, Leonardo DiCaprio’s next lover is being potty-trained.
Of course, there are drawbacks to running around with a bloke young enough to be your son. It will prompt lots of caustic cracks about why you didn’t child-proof your love life. Some pals may suggest you buy him a booster seat for your car and pyjamas with little feet. But don’t worr y – if a sanc timonious killjoy asks with disdain,
‘Where’s your self-respect…?’ you can simply reply: ‘I don’t know. My toy boy’s the one who puts ever y thing away.’
Still, I do have a few qualms. A younger lover may have a strong libido, but can he spell it? He probably thinks it means the words to an opera. Except ‘opera’ might not be in his vocabular y either – unless it’s next to the word ‘soap’. But so what? Your himbo’s vocabular y may be small, but who cares when he ends ever y sentence with a proposition?
As my finger hovered over a cougar dating app, I found myself hesitating. Yes, a strapping Adonis would make me feel like a teenager again, but is it a good look on a woman who’s contemplating her first or thopaedic shoe? Plus I’d have to spend all my time reversing out of rooms in said shoes so that he can’t see the backs of my thighs and compare them to the last supermodel he dated. And of course, I’ll be picking up all the bills. Toy boys prefer a female they can bank on. If you’re a woman with money to burn, you’ll have met your match. Besides, a toy boy is merely a transitor y pleasure. It might be better to find something more permanent… Hmmm, maybe it’s time to get that tatt?
Once upon a time, a tattoo was referred to as a ‘tramp stamp’, but that of fensive label bit the dust when three very classy dames – Felicity Kendal, Helen M
