Soon, I will be a mature woman of 30, and as an early birthday present to myself, I’ve decided to stop talking, at least on a daily basis, to men with whom I was once romantically involved. Historically, I stay pals with most of my formers, but lately this practice has become unhealthy. Mostly because my formers are now dating, in many cases, women I used to babysit.
A short time ago, I was discussing this situation with a former boyfriend. He was 34, and his latest love was 19.
“What is it?” I asked him. “I mean, I find it hard to believe that women in, say, their mid-20s are that old and decrepit. Why all the teenagers all of sudden? Can’t you afford a Camaro?”
“I think it’s just that it’s easier,” he said. “Women your age are so serious.”
“Because they want to get married, or because they’re more settled, or what?”
“No, not just that … it’s more than young women are more light-hearted. They’re not so suspicious and bitter.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Well, don’t worry,” I said, finally. “You’ll take care of that.”