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Article about girls with older guys:
Now, I'm dating a younger one. Here’s what it’s really like to date a younger man after divorce. I Married an Older Man, Now I’m Dating a Younger One.

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How our relationship busts the many myths of midlife dating as a woman. By Asha Elias Published: Oct 20, 2025. Listen (11 min) 11 min. Khadija Horton/Getty Images. It’s 6 a.m. on the last day of Miami Music Week, one of the world’s biggest EDM conferences, and Z and I are still at Factory Town, the after-hours center of it all. We’ve been here since 11 p.m. and the night/morning is a potent cocktail of DJs, elaborate LED screens, and people-watching. The nearly 5,000 attendees wear outfits ranging from spaceman costumes to plain T-shirts to fishnets and thongs. Thanks to the thrift store sweatshirt I’ve just purchased from one of the marketplace vendors, I’m no longer shivering in the late-night/early-morning air. I have, however, been yawning since 4 a.m., but Z isn’t ready to leave. Nor does he understand the gripping fear of needing a couple hours of sleep before one or both of your children come hurtling into your bedroom, asking when the big Sephora sale goes live or requesting homemade waffles for breakfast. But then again, I don’t have that worry either—not today, anyway. It’s my ex’s weekend, so Z and I stay to watch the sun rise. He is seven years younger than me, which isn’t an eternity, but we are in completely different life stages. We are also completely on trend. In case you haven’t heard, age gap relationships are buzzy right now, with an extra fascination towards the almost subversive nature of the older woman/younger man pairing on display in recent blockbusters like Babygirl and The Idea of You . In the latter flick starring Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine, 40-year-old single mother Soléne meets and starts a romance (at Coachella!) with Hayes Campbell, a gorgeous and wildly famous 24-year-old musician. Infuriatingly, no matter how emphatically Hayes pursues her, Soléne can’t get comfortable with the idea of them together, thinking there’s no way their relationship would last. As much as I wanted Soléne to hop into bed with Hayes the second he made eye contact with her, I have to admit, she wasn’t all wrong to hold back. My own age-gap coupling with Z is both fiery and, admittedly, doomed. Still, all potential regrets considered, I’m confident I’ll walk away with few to none. I was once married to an older man (I am his junior by 14 years). We spent 13 years together and had a loving, successful marriage—until we didn’t. And now, thankfully, we have a warm, respectful co-parenting arrangement and close friendship. Our age gap wasn’t a key factor in our demise but, if I’m being honest, it did matter. The ex and I met when I was 25 and he was 39. He was a successful businessman and I was still nursing hangovers with greasy slices of pizza after long nights out with friends. We fell in love. But being together meant growing up faster than I was ready to. I don’t regret letting go of little pieces of youth before my time, but I have felt their absence over the years nonetheless. Maybe that’s why, like a child who is deprived of sugar and then left alone at a dessert table, when my marriage ended, I wanted to binge on everything I’d been missing. When my marriage ended, I wanted to binge on everything I’d been missing. But I was a mom. I had responsibilities. Also, my capacity for hangovers had diminished significantly compared to what it was in my 20s. Still, I started dipping my toe into singlehood with girls’ nights out when my ex had the kids. My friends and I would have dinner and drinks, maybe even dance for a bit, and make it home at a wild 11:30 to midnight. It awakened at least a small part of me that had been lost, but I still wondered if I’d ever be able to date again. That part of my brain had been turned off for so many years. And on top of that, I’d stopped thinking of myself as a sexual being pretty much as soon as I had my first child. (Lord knows how I made the second.) I assumed prospective dates would think of me as “too old” with “too much baggage,” or be turned off by my rapidly expiring eggs. But I was wrong. In fact, the thing that really surprised me was that the men who seemed the most interested in me were 5 to 15 years younger. It wasn’t just me, either. It seemed like all my newly single, middle-aged girlfriends were either dating or being coveted by the young’ns. Was it a weird epidemic of Oedipus complexes? Or maybe it’s just that older women are, as Hayes Campbell puts it, “smart and hot. Or whatever.” Either way, the concept seemed alarmingly foreign to me, especially after more than a decade with an older man. I avoided the trend and started casually dating people my own age instead. Some part of me woke up and realized I was still a fully sexual being and that turning 40 didn’t suddenly make me invisible. What happened next is embarrassingly cliché. It started with a fantasy—the young, hot guy at my gym with the sparkling eyes and the body of a chiseled god ripped straight from the cover of a ’90s romance novel. Z was fun to look at, but I knew he didn’t see me the same way. We rarely spoke, and when we did, he’d say things like, “Wow, you look so good for your age,” which is more or less what you’d say to your friend’s mom. There was no way he was interested in me—I’d convinced myself of it. But I did notice that he was quick to respond to me (privately) on our Fit305 group chat every time I started a new collection for coaches’ gifts (I’m a perpetual room mom, even at the gym).