Honestly I’ve been lurking on this page for awhile and never posted anything; however, some of the stories have made me reminisce on a past fling, and I thought some would enjoy hearing about it.

I’ve always been attracted to older women. Even as a kid, when my friends made fun of girls for having cooties, I remember crushing on my teachers. Is there something in my psyche that has caused this? Probably, but that’s a topic for therapy.

Anyway, I had always envisioned a relationship with an older woman, especially when I was around 18. It was one of those “stars align” moments where I met this older woman (43F) while working at a coffee shop. You know how they say sometimes things just happen in a brief moment without truly understanding it? That’s exactly what happened. What began as professional greetings turned into innocent flirting. She was exactly my type. Around 5’5, wavy hair, and the most quintessential mom-bod (not overweight, not too skinny. The perfect mix of age-consistent fitness and years of graceful aging and pregnancies).

To keep it short, our first encounter was a spontaneous make out session in my car after a shift. This quickly escalated to spending the night at her house. What was initially seen as spontaneous one night stands soon evolved into something I didn’t expect. We spent days together. Cooking together, sleeping together, showering together. It was almost as if we had become a married couple in the span of weeks. We were comfortable, vulnerable. That type where you feel no insecurities, even when standing fully naked in the kitchen, exposing all imperfections. We could sense the feelings growing, especially in bed when every encounter was riddled with eye contact, a raised thigh to my waist, long kisses, and passionate whimpers of "I love you” just as we both released.

Of course, nothing in life is this simple. She was married, and these weekends together took place whenever he was traveling for work. Fast forward several months, suspicion from her husband, and a pregnancy scare, she ended up moving when her husband was transferred. We never spoke again; however, I think of her often.