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Monday 
26 September 2005
An Old Lady and a Young Man
I don’t write about celebrities. Why? Because I don’t care about them.
And if you’re a smart, astute participant in this big world of ours, you likely don’t either. After all, why should you? What are they, really?
They’re the rich, the famous, the beautiful. They occasionally do smart things, emphasis on “occasionally.” They’re almost always governed by ulterior motives. Most of them have turned “plastic” into an adjective rather than a noun, and that’s just how it goes.
But I’m stepping out of my bounds. Ashton Kutcher has married Demi Moore. Do I care about the wedding? No, not in the least.
I care about the shocked and stunned surprise held by most of the media that He of Beautiful Face and Bod has settled for a woman 15 years his senior, and he’s not even 30.
First of all, Kutcher’s not your typical pretty boy male starlet. He’s a former biomedical engineering student, and about as savvy an entrepreneur as I’ve seen at his age. It should go without saying that he’s probably looking for an intelligent, mature woman.
Is Demi Moore all that? I really can’t say. I barely know anything about her. But if someone with his smarts and background has latched onto someone like her, I’m assuming maybe, just maybe, she’s got a little more to offer than having been a Charlie’s Angel.
So that’s the basic background for my impending rant. Without ado…
As a woman turning 32 in a couple days, I find it ludicrous the media’s so fixated on the age difference. I’m tired of this sexist perception that it’s obvious women should be interested in older men, but baffling when it’s the other way around.
I wanna pull a Demi and land me a younger man. I may be smart, mature, and fairly established in life, but I’m also young at heart and a bit of a rebel.
The fact is, certain older men have their appeal. But so do older women, as I’m starting to discover myself.
There’s a lot to be said for a broad who knows her way around a bedroom, who has that quiet assurance that comes from life experience.
I don’t know if Moore had surgery to stay a hottie. I suspect she has. I don’t respect that, if that’s the case. But I respect her for changing the perception of pregnant women, for posing naked while preggers on the cover of a magazine, back in the day. She was ballsy then, and she’s ballsy now, and regardless of being under the knife or not, she’s just dandy in my books.
Maybe this ain’t what they meant by “feminism” in womens’ studies, but I’m so down with Demi snagging a young hunk. I admire her. I dig Ashton for appreciating her regardless of her age.
And I’m pissed at the media for not getting that sex is sex, and hell, man, 42 ain’t old at all.
Ain’t you heard? 40’s the new 30, folks.
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