Last year, I had sex with a grandfather. That sounds bad, but I didn’t know he was a grandpa until after we’d done it. Plus, he’s a good thirty years younger than my own grandfather. But still, at 53, he had two kids and a baby granddaughter, while at 32, I’m itching to give birth to my own babies. When he confessed his real age to me over lunch following our hotel-room hookup (he’d told me he was 48), I assured him that I didn’t mind.
And at first, I didn’t. Part of what attracted me to him was that he was mature. He owned his own home, had a secure job. His life wasn’t as precarious as the other guys I’d recently dated. He seemed steady and solid, thoughtful, and I liked the idea of him presiding over a family. It made me feel like he’d be protective and gentlemanly, but still hot. Keep reading »