The Friday afternoon runs from a drink in the garden in another drink on the terrace and now I am dancing in the local pub well after midnight. Jong Grut mainly moves around me. Looking for someone to tongues at the end of the evening. I tackle a beer from my girlfriend and look with slightly horror at the Shotglas Salmari that she pushes in my hand. Well, what difference does it matter. I throw the black stuff back and rinse it with a sip of beer.
Loose
Next to me, a friend of a friend appears. He chats and chats and chats, until he suddenly mentions my ex’s name. How it is with him. “That is no longer,” I say quickly. It seems to me the simplest and painless explanation. I have little appetite to discuss my relationship break with this much younger, vague knowledge. Suddenly I see the gaze changing in his eyes. He bridges the socially desirable distance with one step in my way. While he continues to talk, he first puts his hand on my arm and then just a bit too intrusive in my neck. I take a step back. “Do you actually know how old I am?” I ask. He shakes no, but immediately says it doesn’t matter to him. “And you are?” I wrist. “Twenty -two.” I laugh. “I don’t care that you are thirty -eight,” he whispers in my ear after I mention my age. “But me,” I respond with a grin.
38 And again alone: ’The first time with someone else is as if you are shopping in a strange supermarket’
Since I walk through life as a bachelor, I feel especially free for younger men. My inbox on Instagram rinses over the twenty-four-seater-six-year-olds. Occasionally I respond to a message for some in -depth investigation. Because what do such a lady should do with me? I was a trillion year with my ex, I am by no means well preserved as the own peers and a future is certainly not there. “Women of your age are more self -assured. They know what they want”the boy (because it remains a young boy) of twenty -seven me. Plus another series of filthy messages about what he would like to do to me. I check it as a compliment, but I am not yet completely satisfied with the answer.
Photo with diced belly
“You are a conquest,” says my girlfriend’s husband without detours if I just throw the question on the table with him. “They can brag about you with their friends.” Suddenly I gain insight into a piece of men’s psyche that I hardly know. So it is not only the older man who conquers the Jonkie, but also the young guy who apparently sees it as a challenge to tie a 38-year-old. I think back to a story from the past, in which one of my friends told tough about the woman of forty he managed to seduce on vacation. It ended with a few big ticks from her husband on his nose, but In The End Was that even better for the story. Oh my God. I am now that (just not) 40-year-old woman. Without man, then again.
38 and again alone: ’Of course, in the round sexes and men wiping away, of course does not help for a meter’
If I decide to go again a twenty -six -year -old, with an incredibly good body, I suddenly wonder what a man in my place would do. Don’t hesitate for a second and probably dive on top. The difference is that he gets a pat on the back from his friends. My girlfriends keep calling that I have to move around that young stuff with a big bow, because that is of no use to me. I take another look at the photo with cubicle belly. Well, nothing … nothing? Maybe I should try it.
More wife
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