A 45-year-old man shared why he is looking for a wife 15 years younger

A 45-year-old man shared why he is looking for a wife 15 years younger - the reason was explained by a simple phrase. We were sitting in a cozy restaurant, celebrating the birthday of our mutual friend. Candles, soft music, and the clinking of glasses - everything created an atmosphere of a light and pleasant evening. A colorful company gathered at our large table: several couples, a couple of my single girlfriends, and William. William, a 45-year-old recently divorced man, was the center of attention. A successful IT specialist, witty, with that slight gray at his temples that’s often called 'distinguished,' wearing an expensive jacket that fits him perfectly. He was the embodiment of male confidence. Inevitably, in the middle of the evening, the conversation turned to personal lives. — So, Williams, how are things on the personal front? — The birthday boy smiled and asked. — I suppose you have no shortage of admirers. William smirked with that condescending smile of a man who knows his worth and sees no reason to hide it. — Yes, of course, he casually replied, glancing at the lady sitting next to him. — But I approach the matter seriously. Not just for fun. I'm looking for something for life. I need a wife.

I need a woman around thirty years old. Well, maybe thirty-three at the most. At the table, a ringing silence hung for a split second. I glanced at my friend Lena, who is forty-five. We both were, as they say, 'in resource’ with careers, hobbies, apartments, plans, and fire in our eyes. But, according to Williams's classification, we had already been written off to the archives. — Why such a strict age limit? — Camilla, known for her straightforwardness, couldn't hold back. — Does something irreversible happen at thirty-one? Does a woman turn into a pumpkin? William leaned back in his chair, adopting the pose of a guru who is about to descend to us, the unreasonable ones, and share the great truth. — Well, look, girls, he began, and the patronizing 'girls' made my jaw clench. — By thirty, a woman has already understood something in life but is not yet tired of it. She is light and flexible. She can still genuinely admire a man instead of competing with him. With a peer, he made a significant pause. With a peer, it’s more complicated.

A frame from the series "Palm Royale." She already has baggage, principles, and her own ironclad opinion on any issue. She is no longer a muse, but a business partner who checks the KPIs with you. I looked at him and felt a cold, quiet rage boiling inside. I looked at his "solidity" — an expensive jacket that nevertheless couldn't hide his belly. More a result of something else than the gym. His "worthy" wrinkles around the eyes were just a regular web from fatigue and love for late-night gatherings. And I thought about how our entire culture is built on this monstrous, hypocritical deception. For him, William, society tells him that his age is an asset. Gray hair is charming, wrinkles are experience, and a belly is solid. He is shown in advertisements the way he is. But a woman is told that her age is a liability. Wrinkles must be removed, gray hair hidden, and life experience is a "heavy baggage" that scares men away. We are retouched, photoshopped, and driven into an eternal race for appearance.

Departing youth. Because, it turns out, only it has value. - Wait, - Svanne, who was sitting opposite, intervened. She was in her late forties, twice divorced, and looked like a rock star. - So, 'baggage' is bad? And you don't have any at forty-five? Or male baggage is different, it's 'life experience'? A frame from the series 'The Durrells' - Of course, it's different, - William replied without batting an eye. - My experience allows me to lead. And her experience often makes her resist and double-check everything. - So you need not a partner, but a follower? - Camilla clarified. - Someone who will look up to you and won’t ask unnecessary questions? William began to lose patience. - Why do you all complicate things? It's about energy. At thirty, a woman has different energy. She still wants to build a nest and have children. She is soft and pliable. She is ready to change for the man she chose. But at forty, she can change anyone for herself. I don't need a second man in a skirt. I want to be the captain of the ship, not one of the two helmsmen.

I glanced at the men at the table. Camilla's husband was staring at his plate. Svanne's husband pretended to be very engrossed in the wine list. Mine was pretending to have seen something interesting on his phone. The birthday boy smiled apologetically. They were silent. And this silence was a deafening sign of complicity. They were all members of this unspoken club. A club where one could arrive at the alumni meeting with shortness of breath, bald patches, and a shirt stretched over a bulging belly, and condescendingly discuss how 'aged' their former classmates had become. Those who, oh horror, dared to look their age instead of twenty-five. I remembered my first husband, who at 43 looked 55, considered a trip to the store for bread a physical ordeal, and thought the best way to relax was lying on the couch. But he, too, would undoubtedly be discussing 'light and flexible' people right now.

I realized that arguing with William was like trying to explain to a cat the benefits of vegetarianism. He didn't hear us. He didn't want to hear. He was preaching from his reality, where he was the center of the universe. And then I decided to take another path. I waited for the wave of debate to subside, and calmly asked, looking him straight in the eye. --- William, okay. I understand your position. Let's dismiss all this psychology about energy and baggage. Just tell me plainly, as it is. What is the primary, simplest, most common reason? Honestly. How do you discuss it among yourselves? He was pleased at the opportunity to finish the debate as the winner. He smiled again with his disarming smile. He looked around at all of us, enjoying the moment and his role as the bearer of sacred knowledge. --- Simply, girls, he said, and there was not a trace of irony in his voice; he spoke it as an axiom, as a law of nature. --- Men age like fine liquor, and women like milk. After that, as you can understand, he was met with a few sweet words, and even the men tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. This story was told to me by an acquaintance, who was indignant. But I have a question. Does anyone agree with this (besides men)? Just as it happens, it’s all strict. Everything is strictly the opposite. This can be read in the comments and on forums. And it is rare to meet a fit 60-year-old man. Isn't it?