CHAPTER SIX — DAVID
"David?"
The question snaps me out of my thoughts.
I look up as a blonde woman wearing black approaches Stephanie and me with a smile and a pen and pad in hand.
I scrutinize her face as she gets closer. It takes me a second, and then I remember.
"Kiara?" I ask.
She nods.
"How have you been?" she asks.
Kiara has been a waitress at this bar ever since I can remember coming here.
I haven't been back much since I left the gang 20 years ago, but I've come back on a few occasions, and every time I have, Kiara's been here.
With her short blonde hair and snake and rose tattoo on her left forearm, Kiara's always fit in with the aesthetic of the establishment quite well.
And in all the time I've known her, she's never deviated from that.
"I've been good," I say. "How about you?"
"Oh, you know," she says, waving her hand.
I smile. I'm not going to pry. Her eyes turn to Stephanie.
"Who's the lady?" she asks, smiling. "Fresh meat?"
She raises an eyebrow, and I can't tell if she's joking or not.
"Kiara," I say. "Come on. You know I'm not like that."
She stops smiling.
"I was just kidding," she says. "Obviously."
Unlike many of the other men in this crowd, I've always tended to date women my age.
I think at most I've dated women who were five years younger.
Some of the men around here will date women half their age.
Many will purposefully start dating a girl the day she turns 18.
It's disgusting, frankly, but so widespread that it's taboo to criticize.
I can appreciate beauty when I see it, but I don't feel the need to go out of my way to manipulate vulnerable young women. Not to say that's the only reason these men date younger women. Of course, a lot of them are just drawn to the sheer beauty and youth of these women.
But for a lot of the men, it's the fact that these women are impressionable that's the draw. Which I find abhorrent. Imagine being so pathetic that the only woman you could get to date you was one who didn't know any better. It boils my blood, to be honest.
Stephanie and I both order. As soon as Kiara's out of earshot, Stephanie turns to me.
"What was that about?" she asks.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"'Fresh meat'?" she asks, using air quotes.
"I'm not like that," I say brusquely.
Stephanie just nods. Usually, I'd wait her out, but I feel compelled to elaborate.
So I do.
"You know I'm divorced, right?" I ask.
Stephanie nods.
"Yeah."
She takes a sip of her water and continues.
"But you never told me much about it."
"Right," I say. "The divorce isn't the point. The point is that I've been in the dating market, or whatever the kids call it these days, for a few years now, and that's not my thing. Dating significantly younger women. A lot of the men here do it. It's pretty common, but I'm not one of them."
I stare at Stephanie. Her face is completely neutral. No tension, no smile, nothing. She's unreadable. Until words start spilling out of her mouth.
"Oh, please," Stephanie blurts out.
She quickly claps a hand over her mouth.
"Oops," she says.
"No," I say. "I'm all ears. Go on."
"It's just—"
She stops.
"Spit it out," I say.
"Well, I just don't really believe you," she says, looking at me.
I laugh.
"What do you mean? I've dated women around my own age or a few years younger. I've never dated extremely young women. That's just a fact."
"Okay," she says slowly, "but that's not really the question though."
"Tell me then, Stephanie," I say, leaning forward. "What is the question?"
A piece of hair falls in front of her eyes, and before I can stop myself, I tuck it behind her ear. She blushes, and I feel something stir inside me.
"The question," she starts, her voice so quiet I need to lean closer to hear her.
She stares into my eyes and doesn't blink. I feel electricity in the air between us. A quiet buzzing. Palpable energy.
I'm suddenly acutely aware of every sensation in my body. For the first time, I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins.
"The question isn't have you dated significantly younger women… It's would you date way younger, if you could?"
I burst out laughing.
"If I could? Please, Stephanie. You don't think I can?"
"No, no, that's not what—"
She looks mortified.
"Okay. Well, go on then," I say.
"I'm sure you can. You're very handsome and—"
She blushes. I feel my cock stir in my pants. Again, those images of her flash through my brain. Suddenly I'm tempted to knock everything off the table and pick her up and place her right on the edge, those beautiful legs of hers dangling off of it, me in between them.
"I'm sure you could," she says. "But you can't for social reasons. It would look bad. That's what I mean."
I smile, amused.
"Stephanie, do you think any of these people here would give a flying fuck if I dated a woman your age?"
She shakes her head.
"They wouldn't. Although, I'll say this, you're not completely wrong.
I'm not in this crowd anymore. The people I socialize with these days are very different.
I don't know how they would feel about me dating a super young woman, but trust me when I say this: I don't care enough about their opinions to decide who I fuck based on it. "
"So what do you base it on?" she asks me.
"My decision of who to fuck, you mean?" I ask.
She nods and blushes. It's interesting. For a woman who's normally so crass, she seems a bit shy almost when talking about sex.
Although that's somewhat understandable seeing as she and I have had mostly a professional relationship up until a few weeks ago.
She's not used to hearing me speak like this or about these sorts of topics.
I pause.
"That's actually a really good question, and it's one I don't exactly have an answer for, if I'm being honest with myself. There's no woman who's really excited me since my ex-wife, and she and I divorced five years ago."
I pause and look at Stephanie. She's leaning closer, hanging on to every word. Encouraged, I continue.
"Post divorce, I've been on too many first dates to count, a generous amount of second dates, and a decent amount of third dates, but never more than that.
Sometimes the women weren't attractive, and sometimes they were boring.
And sometimes it was something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
That was probably the majority of the dates, now that I think of it.
Anyways, I just figured that's what happens when you get older.
You've been there, done that, and nothing's exciting anymore.
And besides, all the good ones have been taken. "
I smile wryly.
"So what? You want to stay single forever then? Have you just given up on dating?" she asks.
"I still date, but I'm not actively looking for a partner like I was a few years ago.
I've resigned myself to a life of bachelorhood.
Resigned is the wrong word, actually, because it's not like I don't enjoy it.
I love the freedom that comes with being single.
My time is my own and I have as much sex as I want.
It hasn't been mind-blowing, but I'm not too hung up on that.
Mind-blowing sex usually only happens when you know somebody deeply.
It's not something you can find casually.
And while that would be great to find again, I'm not sure it's worth it. I'm pretty happy as I am."
"Really?" Stephanie asks. "You're okay giving that up? Do you think maybe you just haven't been out with the right woman?"
I shake my head.
"I don't think that's it. I've been out with many beautiful women, but none of them have been able to match the intensity of what I had with my ex-wife. I just chalk that up to the fact that it's hard to beat the kind of intimacy you build with someone over 20 years."
"But what if you could?" Stephanie asks quietly.
I stare at her. I realize that I'm saying all this… and yet… when I look at her, I feel a fire in my belly. It feels similar to the fire I had with my ex-wife, but distinct in some ways. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something qualitatively different.
She reminds me of what my ex was like 20 years ago, but she also evokes a certain feeling in me. It's distinct, something I've never felt before.
The word pops into my head.
Anemoia
I came across this word when doing a crossword puzzle a few years ago, and it always stuck with me.
It's the feeling of longing for a time, place, or person you never experienced.
Something about Stephanie makes me feel that way. I don't know why.
Is it a longing to be with her? A longing to have been born in a different generation? A longing for a different life? I don't know. But I do know that it makes me feel alive in a way I haven't in a long time. It makes me feel alive in a way that's almost painful.
In some ways, I feel like I see the world differently around Stephanie. She's impulsive and reckless, but there's this innocence to her that's beautiful.
I want to crush her innocence, but I'm drawn to it at the same time. It's perplexing.
Half of me wants to teach Stephanie life skills and instill some good sense into her.
And the other half?
The other half wants to do things to her that are so depraved, I hesitate to even let myself fully go there mentally. First, it'll be throwing her up against the wall and ravaging her. Then it'll be tying her down and having my way with her. And then…
Stephanie clears her throat, and I'm brought back to Earth.
She looks at me expectantly. I didn't think it was possible for me to feel this way about a woman again.
I look at Stephanie. I remember she's still waiting for an answer.
I don't have one for her, so I tell her that.
"I don't know," I say.