I’m 24, straight, and apparently uninterested in shopping within my own age bracket. Men my age can be perfectly attractive in theory. In practice, my attention tends to wander toward somebody older.
This isn’t a recent development. Since I turned 18, handsome older men have had a remarkably easy time catching my eye. Even before that, I never really had the crushes on boys my age that everyone else seemed to be having. I’ve had plenty of time to wait for this preference to change. It has shown no interest in doing so.
Vacation is where it becomes particularly obvious. I’ll notice a good-looking older guy on his own, and my walk suddenly acquires a little extra movement. A deliberate sway of the hips. Nothing requiring a permit, just enough to give him a reason to look.
That’s the whole small performance: I notice him, I want him to notice me, and for a few steps I become unusually invested in walking.
I do have a type within the type. Being older isn’t an automatic qualification. I mean handsome, appealing older men—the ones people would call DILFs. A birthday alone does not get anyone through the screening process.
The explanation people might reach for also doesn’t fit neatly. I have a wonderful relationship with my dad. I always have. There’s no obvious family mystery waiting to explain why a man my age leaves me indifferent while an attractive older stranger gets my full attention.
Mostly, I’m puzzled by how consistent it is. I don’t have to persuade myself to find these men attractive, and I can’t seem to manufacture the same response to men my age.
Then I go on vacation, spot another handsome older guy standing alone, and find myself adjusting my walk again. Apparently, the investigation can wait until I’ve passed him.
