I've always had a thing for older men. Since I was first interested in the opposite sex, I have never once properly felt anything genuine for blokes my own age. I don't even apologise for it, it's simply the way I was designed. Some people might say it shows I have daddy issues, but whatever- the simple fact is, I only like older, more experienced men.
Which is why, when I saw this guy whilst on a night out, I knew I wanted him. He had a slight beard, nothing too bushy or obvious, but enough fuzz to interest me. He was wearing a checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. He clocked me looking at him and grinned- a wide, cheeky look which made my insides do a little flip- fuck, he was cute! Tall and skinny, muscular without overdoing it, I guessed him to be mid 30's. Older than me, but not as old as I'd usually go for either.
I stood at the bar watching him. He looked back to his mates to continue his conversation, and I tried concentrate on my own group of friends I had come out with. But I couldn't help looking over in his direction, repeatedly. He was still there, and in my head I was convinced he was ignoring me on purpose, to wind me up. After about the 10th time of looking in his direction in the same number of minutes, he was no longer there, nor were the friends he was with. My heart dropped slightly, admonishing myself for missing the chance to speak to him- he really was very cute!
I turned round to chat to my mates again until I felt a strange presence behind me. I could see my mates looking at something behind me too. I turn round and sure enough, it was him, though he was now on his own. From the looks on my friends faces, they agreed with me, but strangely enough, he only seemed to want to say hi to me. I coyly smiled at him and said hi, twirling a loose strand of my hair between my fingers, a sure sign I'm nervous or shy. He grins at me, almost as if he's unsure of himself as well, but he wanted to take a risk. My heart is in my mouth as we walk away from the group I'm with to sit down and chat in a quieter part of the pub. I know full well my mates will be watching us, and I think he does too, because he leads me round the corner to a quiet section with hardly anyone else here. We sit down with our drinks and I ask him if this is his local. He tells me it used to be, but he's since moved away. He used to hang out here all the time when he was too young to legally be here, but as the landlord was a friend of his dad's, they let it slide. He explains that 20 years ago, the laws weren't that strict. I sit and watch him open mouthed before asking how old he is. His answer took me by surprise- 46. I laughed incredulously, but he didn't smile, so I said, "Are you serious?" He reached into his pocket, retrieved his wallet, pulled out his driving licence and handed it to me. After taking note of his name- Jack -I took a while longer to find his date of birth but when I found it, I still couldn't believe it!
"I guessed you to be mid 30's, not mid 40's, jeez! I miscalculated!' I laughed. So did he, before adding "At least you went the right way- down!" Instinctively, I looked in that direction- directly at his crotch. As soon as I did, I looked away again, slightly embarrassed but also excited.
