The Big One

I've always taken a certain measure of pride in the fact that I wed an older woman. There's a mystique to the older woman, a sexiness, a hotness, and an added layer of difficulty to the hunt. You see, I think it's fairly easy for an older man to score a younger bride, but you've really got to amp up your game to bag an older one. They're wiser. They know our tricks. And we'd better be pretty frickin' special if they're going to pass up their sugar daddy for us. Well I did it and I'm proud.

I also happen to be talking completely though my anus because we were stupid frickin' kids when we met and started dating, and our difference in age is a mere six months. But tomorrow that six month age difference will magically transform into a seemingly bottomless chasm as my bride ceases to be a 30-something. Yes, tomorrow is Diane's birthday, and it's a big'un. Tomorrow my bride turns 40.

FORTY.

4.0.

But that doesn't distress me at all. I, as a younger husband, think it's HOT. I get to sleep with a 40 year-old woman! What really bothers me is the knowledge that MY 40th is only six months away. Then I'll probably cry.