When I was in middle school, I had the biggest crush on one of my teachers. I was too young to understand the way I felt when I was around her. I stumbled through all my words and I always felt sick. I realise now that was just nerves, but I was just a kid.
As I started getting older, I became a little more aware of my sexual desires. I understood a little better the way I had felt around that teacher. I also noticed that my preference hadn’t seemed to change. My friends all had their girlfriends. I’d see them holding hands and quick pecks on the cheek. But I wasn’t into it. Maybe I just never found a girl I liked, but they all seemed boring to me.
Then I met her.
She was a substitute teacher. It was my last year of high school. She was smoking hot and a good twenty years older than me. She had the salt and pepper hair colour going for herself. But it looked good. I told a friend of mine one day in the cafeteria about my attraction. He laughed and said it was never going to happen. I figured he was right, but there was no harm in thinking about it.
Then one afternoon, she asked me to help her grade some tests for another class. I had good grades, so it made sense. I was happy to help. I had a chair pulled up beside her desk. I tried to focus on the work, but my eyes kept roaming over to her. She was feverishly marking, so I didn’t think she noticed. She had on a gray pencil skirt that had a slit up one of the sides. I thought about what most teenage boys were thinking about. I didn’t even know how to reach when she put her hand on my leg a minute later, but I’ll skip on the details. She left the school a few days after when the other teacher returned.
She opened my eyes that afternoon.
I realised why I wasn’t attracted to boring girls. It wasn’t because they were boring at all. I was into older women. Much older women. So, I started dating women who were older than my own mother. Of course that was met with a little shock. My friends all thought it was awesome that I could even get an older women. I mean, I wasn’t comfortable being judged by my family. But, I knew what I liked and I knew I wasn’t going to find it in girls my own age.
I like the definition on an older body, the scars and life experiences pressed into their flesh. I like how assertive and sure of themselves they all seemed to be. I like how open and expressive they are. I’ve never met an older women who “played games”. I’ve seen a couple of my friends have text-wars with girlfriends. I know I’ll never have that problem. My women know what to say and how to say it. They aren’t afraid to tell me to take a hike if I cross a line. I love it.
I know I’m not the only one out there. I’ve seen how common it is. It’s not widely accepted, but it’s more common then most people think. I want to see my love for the older women to be accepted. Other young men who were once in my shoes need to know it’s cool and completely natural to feel the way they do. Maybe not everyone will get themselves a hot substitute teacher, like me. But I’d like to see more people act on their desires, so I share my stories.