The Otter and the boy…. No Cougars in sight..

Am I dreaming? I seem to be lying on a mattress squidged into the eaves of an attic, in what must be a boy’s bed as it smells bit musty and is surrounded by lines of action and thriller DVDs on one side. On the other side is a line of marvel comics and then contrastingly some Will Self and Oscar Wilde.  To leave the bed it involves crawling or sliding down the bed and then ducking so I don’t bang my head on the eave.  I feel like Alice In Teenageboyland. I don’t move an inch though as I am still asleep.  Right? I must be dreaming because I think can hear my dead father talking to me through the door “What time did you get in last night? Are you up yet? Come on!” 

I’m about to reply that Dad I’m a 37 year old single mother on a weekend off from motherhood and this is my dream and I’ll get up when I’m blummin ready thanks. When next to me, a face buried deep in the musty pillow bellows back  “I’m up Dad! I’ll be down in a minute”. The face then smiles at me and kisses my forehead. The face is quite the most beautiful face I have ever seen.  A dark haired bearded thing with a piercing warm gaze, that stares directly right into the under stairs cupboard of my mind. “Morning beautiful, are you okay?” I smile wondering how much Vodka I drank last night…. It seems I’m not dreaming, it’s a Saturday morning and this ‘lone parent’ is in bed with her younger boyfriend. (He has just turned 26 and lives in the attic of his parents’ home).  Now I remember! How much booze did I glug last night?

Late nights, vodka hangovers and wanting to sleep in all day like a teenager are only possible, as I’m a ‘Single parent’. Or ‘lone parent’ as the government like to refer to me now.

Having these weekends ‘off’ (When my ex has my daughter…) means that I still party, making an idiot of myself on the dance floor and unfortunately still have ‘did I really do that last night? God I want to move town’ hangovers.

It is not natural to still be getting hangovers at my age as a parent!   I should be baking and moaning about school picks ups surely? Not doing the running man dance at 2am in a bar to  ‘Salt n Pepa’.  A record which I bought originally when it first came out in the 80’s!

My boyfriend was born in 1984.  I would have been 12 years old. Its really best not to think about this ‘on paper’ as it sounds bit  ‘Jeremy Kyle’.  A 37-year-old mum going out with a 26-year-old guy who actually lives with his own mum... When I was a 22-year-old clubber he would have been 11. When I am 50, he’ll be 39 and er probably clubbing. Yes best not to think about it.

It’s best to concentrate on the how amazing it is. Honestly, I have never had such a grown up relationship in all my life. Ironic, as most people presume that the opposite would be true.  People presume young means immature, but my own father was a married parent by the time he was 26. I guess as a society we are avoiding having children till later and thus taking much longer to grow up than ever before.

Men nearer my own age have been more immature than this young man; For instance the father of my child left when I was 7 months pregnant. He had cajoled me into keeping the baby, (so proud that his sperm worked), telling everyone he could he would soon be a daddy. Little did I realize that was all he wanted, or all he could handle? For him, (a man with a high-powered job that gives him all his self esteem), there is no need for the love of a woman as its too conditional, requires too much bending and compromise, whereas the love of little child suits him perfectly.  He can dictate the rules and still receive unconditional love. He is an extemporary father, paying his maintenance and has his daughter as much as he can. He loves her. It was an adult relationship he found difficult to ‘manage’. Now he pays me like one of his workers on his payroll.  We discuss the child like a project that he is working on and give each other managerial feedback.   We get on so well in this ‘working’ relationship that someone asked recently if we would every get back together? I just laugh! As how could he ever compare to my toyboy? My toyboy is emotional, my toyboy communicates how he is feeling, my toyboy writes me love letters, my toyboy looks into my eyes and reads how I am feeling, way before I even know how I am feeling. My boy is no toy. He is not even a boy. He is more man than any man I have ever been with.

People say it won’t last.  The biggest pressures have been trying to ignore family and friends, (mainly his, surprisingly) people seem to project their negative experiences of love onto us. “It may be good now, but….” I guess a 37 year old single mum wasn’t the dream they had for their son.

If I were a rich celebrity older woman, like Madonna or Sam Taylor-Wood, perhaps then they’d be happy for us. Then our differing career timelines wouldn’t be a potential financial problem. I don’t care that he has little money, working part time with kids, I love it.  If the children are good in school all week, as a treat, a chosen few can spend an hour with my boyfriend on Friday lunchtimes! I’m not sure if that’s a sign that my bloke is amazing with children, or if modern children are in desperate need of male role models in this over female dominated modern world of single parenting…

The other day he said, “You’re going to want things before I want things.” He meant children. I have a child, He’s a natural born father, I couldn’t deny him that path of life. I would love to have a baby, this time with the father around, to do it properly. I felt annoyed with his comment. I said “well there’s your opt out excuse!” If he ever wants an excuse, there it is. Most problems in a relationship, one can iron out. But losing one’s fertility due to age is kind of stuck in stone… If we stay together, we have a 5-year time limit on having babies at the most. What if he wants to wait till his mid thirties like my generation?

People say, “Where’d you meet him?” As if when I tell them, they can then go collect one exactly the same.  I met him whilst DJ’ing. In a case of mistaken identity I accidentally threw a ball of paper at his head.  After apologizing, he did not leave my DJ booth for the rest of the night. Seem young men like having things thrown at them. Great, he’ll love my toddler! It was then he revealed that he worked in a school with Autistic kids. Perfect, a potential boyfriend with a CRB check! What more could a single mother want for? When we revealed our ages, he looked as disappointed as me. He was 25 at that point.  I felt instantly sad, presuming that there no relationship future, but something more than his handsome face was luring me in. A brooding inner titanium strength balanced with an emotional sensitivity that seemed to read my mind. When I told him my age I have never seen this man look so annoyed. He looked like someone had given him a big dripping chocolate-chip cookie, adding “ I opened this packet some months back, but they should be alright…” I think we both felt cheated. I told his friend I wondered what I doing as I was so much older. And she replied “It’s only for a night isn’t it?” I enjoy waving at her now we’ve been together ages!

That night I took his hand to hold, which he loved. Which I love that he loved. I’ve never met a man my own age that likes holding hands! Standing on Shaftsbury Avenue waiting for my cab, we had a slow breathy conversation between our lips. It was more than a kiss goodbye, a kiss hello. I felt like my soul was being given a good talking to. “Live in the moment! Forget about rules!”

The only free time I had for our first date was a weekend when I had my small child at home.  On our first date he met my child and on our second date I met his mum. How modern yet traditional.  For our first date I got a baby sitter, it seems I should have got two…one for me too, as apparently I got so nervously drunk he had to put me to bed, whilst he slept on the couch! So much for the older woman cougar… I was more like an Otter.

Or a cat. A territorial cat… He teases that I must have pee’d on my bedroom floor as the floor was damp; I adamantly uphold that a glass of water must have been split.  I’m 11 years older but my bladder is still in tact despite childbirth thank you! 

It was a two-week wait from meeting to first date; I set him homework as he said he would be moping around waiting. Isn’t that beautifully honest? No game playing right from the start.

I suggested he make a mixtape CD as if those weeks were a film. He did, making me a soundtrack of longing and surprised me by giving it to me fully illustrated with a perfect characterture of me from his memory.  No men my own age have been so playful and romantic.

It set a precedent of honesty that it is our relationships biggest strength and at times our biggest weakness. We can’t help but share our fears about the future, (usually me vainly projecting future facial ageing panic...) We get scared, but holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes for a while, replaces the fear with love again.

I text my daughters father that ‘yes her Velcro shoes are in the Charlie and Lola rucksack’, then duck under the eave narrowingly bashing my head but I don’t care as I get to slink back into the heaven that is my manboy’s arms.

 I asked a friend how on earth does one keep going in relationships?  Nevermind one with a huge age gap… He replied quite simply “Its like driving, don’t stare too long at the road way far ahead.  Just keep focusing at the bit right in front of you and you’ll get there.”