When The Whole World Is Younger Than Me

We sat around a table, knives and forks clinking against plates, conversation rife and laughter aplenty. My friends were all dressed up, as was I, in our Saturday best. Glossy lips, shiny hair and heels. Someone began talking about vacations and I chimed in about my awesome dance class in Brooklyn. A friend brought up a sassy colleague. I made a feisty remark and everyone laughed. Another had to leave because her children needed her by bedtime. I pulled a face. Finally someone else wanted to hang elsewhere after the night ended. Okay, I gleefully replied. I ordered a second cup of latte. I was as always, the oldest one in a group.

Is it me or has the world around me stopped ageing? For I am the oldest wherever I go. I am the oldest in the school program I run, I am the oldest in my dance class I faithfully partake and I am the older one when meeting clients. It doesn’t end there. My property agent is younger, my insurance agent is younger, the repairman is younger, the waiter is younger, the passer-by is younger, anyone new who enters my life is younger! Why is everyone younger than me?

I have surprised many consistently over the years when my age is revealed for I look years younger than my age or at least what my age symbolizes. I remember handing my passport to the immigration officer at the JFK Airport in NYC some years back. The African American man took one look at me before shaking his head dramatically. “I don’t believe it! Man I don’t believe it,” he said in a sing song voice that cracked me up.  He was very likely younger than me too. After starting my own business two years ago, I realized my face took on a maturity that came from self-sufficiency, constant thinking and making decisions. It probably made me look less carefree, but nonetheless, still puts me far away from my actual age.

The mystery of everyone being younger than me continued.

When I started a writing program for young adults, I was the oldest. Older than all the older looking ones who were married with kids.

When I went to NYC and took up writing classes, I was assigned four instructors. No surprises, three out of four were younger than me.

When a guy likes me, nine and a half times out of ten is he younger. The gap is some 7-15 years, and simply because it happens so often to me, I have developed an immunity to the somewhat uncomfortable difference. Perhaps I am less resistant to a younger guy compared to most women because I have less of a need to be taken care off. I’ve never been comfortable letting a man pay for my meals (unless we take turns) or having a man be a big permission-giver in my life. Certainly I cannot handle a juvenile nor do I find a lack of experience attractive, but it remains to me that relationships are equal partnerships where both take care of each other. I surmise that it also takes a certain kind of man to want that kind of woman.

I don’t know the official median age when a woman becomes a “cougar” but I became one relatively early in my life. I was 32 (and naturally, looking many years younger than my age) when my first encounter with a cub-of a-prey sauntered by. I was walking my dog Bisky when a 17-year-old came by and attempted conversation.  I believe the 15-year age gap between us qualifies me into legitimate cougardom. He was confident and articulate in the way of a privileged teenager and I was friendly as I normally am. “How old are you?” he wanted to know at once. I told him and whatever reverberation of shock he experienced was concealed but nothing I couldn’t spot. I have no doubt he added a year to soften the blow when I asked for his age. Nevertheless, he wasn’t deterred. He came searching for me again the next day and this time, was well equipped with dog treats for Bisky.

This has since happened consistently in my life. It is flattering when significantly younger guys come to me and I suppose, I have less hang-ups about big age differences if other more meaningful criterias are in place. I’ve always silently listened when girlfriends go on with rigour about the younger guy in their lives - younger being 3-5 years. I certainly understand their excitement or disappointment (depending how a person is) but obviously for a “cougar” like me,………. 3- 5 years, well that’s nothing baby hehehe.

On the subject of friends? Well, the huge majority of them are younger and a reasonable number of them by some 10 years or so. But age is forgotten, as we bond over similar interests, values and ideas. Oftentimes, I am the “younger” one in the friendship, for I do have a petulance and child-like behavior that never does seem to go away. Perhaps it is that characteristic more than anything that attracts people to me. So if a younger friend with a significantly matured mindset wants friendship with an older person for a matured mind, I’m not sure I can fill that gap. While I can discuss big topics, I am equally well-versed in dissecting why 12-year-old Anna didn’t invite my student Kira for her party.

Friendships that have too much big sister-small sister/ brother dynamic, or ones that like to remind me that I am the older more responsible one suit me less. I want equal friendships, not babysitting duties. I don’t want to always be the one to know more. Friendship is after all about value-adding each other, a two-way street. My students who become close to me very quickly learn that I am less sympathetic to overt ignorance and a lack of initiative. I forget they are kids and treat them like adults sometimes. I confess to even quarreling with my 12-year-old student. Way to be childish right?

Further, I furrow my brow when friends wave their younger card as if it gives them some kind of superiority. Age is not an achievement. To always play the baby, the innocent one, the one with younger lungs, get tiring very quickly, for I am independent and quite bereft of motherly instincts.  A younger colleague in my old workplace once joyfully referred to me as the “Dai Ka Jie.” (big sister) I physically cringed. What can I say! We have idiosyncrasies and I’m as flawed as they come.

Perhaps it gets awkward when you’re sitting with a group of young people and they demand for entertainment’s sake to know everyone’s age. You could call me sensitive, but I find it increasingly annoying. For a change, I’d like to ask these people, “So, how much are you earning?” OR “What’s your weight?” OR “What have you achieved in life so far?” OR “He dumped you again??” I realise I am unreasonable, but I do wish people could be a little more perceptive to the feelings of others. It’s not a female thing because men feel the same way too. It’s about being that odd one that makes it so awkward. 

While I do have older friends, there just aren’t many of them. Infact my older friends are significantly older. 60-somethings seem to be the cool age group that become part of my posse. Those closer to my age seem to be struggling with some kind of mid-life crisis. I notice the “weary mentality” people my age seem to have. I glaze slightly when they dish out phrases such as “In our 20s, we were like this…..” Often this is delivered in a wistful tone followed by a “Now at my age……”  whereby some cliched wisdom is expounded upon. Statements I find to have such a pessimistic and tired feeling. Maybe these friends feel old and decrepit, but I certainly don’t, nor do I want to associate with that sort of antiquated zeitgeist. I’m definitely smarter and savvier compared to my twenties, but is twenties the feature age of your life? What a misfortune if it is! I cannot be here delivering sunshine to everyone. Make every decade awesome and your zest increases by the dozen!

Am I subconsciously shooing older people away? When I started a school program 2 years ago, I went round town presenting my business proposal to newly-minted politicians. I soon began to see that almost all of them were years younger than me. Those whom I confidently thought were older turned out to be one or two years younger. Whaat!! On occasion, I sat across completely green politicians with childish drawls attempting an authority that hadn’t quite settled.

It goes without saying that I am the oldest in my hip hop dance studio too, counting aside a specially curated “Aunty Class,” for matured post-childbearing women I am positive are significantly older than me. Then again with my luck, who knows, maybe they aren’t! But that special class aside, I have always been dancing with 16 year-olds and twenty-somethings - the common dance age in dance studios. If you see me in a video or a photo with them, you wouldn’t think I looked out of place. I blend right in, with my clothes, body language and laughter. I am more girlish than womanly and by nature highly energetic.

Perhaps I am attracting a younger set into my life because that’s just the vibe I’m giving out. We attract what we project. I don’t have too many “adult” thoughts. I don’t think of marriage, babies or building an empire. My thoughts range from what to wear, where to have coffee, what new article to write, what achievement next, what new adventure I can do to make money or what my dog Bisky is doing. There is a child-like element in all that I do. My clothes are youthful and I shop plenty at Terranova. I’ve never liked wearing blazers or pants because it feels too elegant and matured for me. I still listen to as much music as a teenager and boy do I look forward to taking an OOTD photo.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I’m 42 this year!! And let me tell you how difficult it was for me to turn 40. Whenever I am asked my age, I give it without hesitation (with the exception of strangers on social media). I never play the game of “How old do you think I am?” because I already know how old I look. BUT I admit turning 40 was hard for me. Really, really hard. I just couldn’t relate to that number. It’s almost like asking a woman who identifies as a man to call herself a “she.” That’s the only way I can describe it. 40 didn’t represent me at all and it felt like I had to wear something extremely uncomfortable. I write a lot of short fiction in where I have an alter ego name Swensen. In every story, Swensen is perpetually 28. That’s the age I most relate too, and is most representative of how I feel and think. It’s the right ratios of youthfulness, playfulness and maturity. It’s how I see myself.

A month before my 40th birthday, I asked a friend if I could take a pill that would permanently stop my age. She laughed at my ridiculous fantasy. No such thing of course. The earth continued its’ orbit around the sun and I turned 40. Nothing untoward happened, no scales or horns appeared and I was still me. But after that, turning 41 and 42 was a LOT easier.

Seeing older inspirational people help me a lot. Hollywood stars like Gwen Stefani and J Lo look amazing for their age, but looks don’t viscerally hold you to a person. Women suffer more from an age stigma and have more hurdles to overcome because looks and youth have always been a woman’s asset. But physicality only takes you that far. When I watch people like Sam Harris who’s incredibly intelligent and motivated, I forget about age. He makes his age so attractive or rather……. unimportant. He’s 53 and a neuroscientist who has the hardest conversations with the most difficult of people to make the world better. He makes me feel excited about life and that I have so much more to achieve.

I mentioned earlier that I attract guys who are significantly younger than me. I’d be remiss to bring this up just to soften some evolutionary patriarchal stereotype, not because I presume myself to be unusually attractive. I have traditional friends who talk about how older women are unattractive, or less prized. This is ever prevalent in the Asian context. Well, in all my romantic experiences, the answer has been consistent. When someone truly likes you, age never matters. None of the guys who liked me ever minded. Infact, it is they who ask “Do you mind my age? If you don’t mind, I don’t mind.” I laugh then.  And I feel pretty damn good.

I’m 42 and honestly, it’s the best year of my life!