The Day I Met Peter Pan Man

The other week I went to the hairdresser to get a health trim. As you usually do with hairdressers, I proceeded to have a lil chin wag with my stylist who happened to be the salon owner. He was trendy, friendly in his mid-late thirties.  We got chatting about movies, celebrities, the British economy, you know the usual malarkey. He had really good hair – which is always promising in a hairdresser.

In that innocent squidgy brain of mine I was thinking  – there is no way he is flirting with me – he’s almost as old as my dad.  I am practically still a child. Besides there is nothing unnatural about sharing your life story with your hairdresser, right? I mean Kate Moss and James Brown are practically BFFs. That’s all a part of the hair dressing experience, right? 

It suddenly came into conversation that he had a four year old daughter. I responded positively (although if you have been reading my blog you will know I don’t really like small kids – but not everyone I encounter needs to know that right!?). ‘Aww that’s lovely’, I said, smiling. How endearing I thought, how refreshing to engage in dialogue with a grown, wise, mature guy who has settled –

‘Yeah it’s alright me and the mum ain’t togever. Prettee good deal I only gotta see her [the lil girl] a couple of times a week and the rest of time I am free to do what I want you know… I actually have a life’.  

Oh my. Charming. I don’t know why he suddenly started speaking in a wierd sorta cockney accent. Maybe he had caught Ndubz on T4 once and assumed this was the best way to bridge a generation gap.  I gotta admit it was slightly diconcerting hearing a grown thirty-something working professional man (who lives in Richmond) take on the lingo and dialect of a young offender.  

He then started swinging his scissors around like he was John Wayne with a lasso. Almost clipped my bloody ear off. The next twenty minutes he gabbled on about his party antics: ‘Love going out at the weekends… clubbing’. Emphasis on clubbing. Don’t patronize me man, I came in for a cut and blow dry not a debriefing on your bloody social diary. He even started listing all his favourite haunts.  He also mentioned to me he ‘liked the ladies’. Listen mate, you don’t have to prove to me you still got it.

It was like he was trying to make some kind of point. And as the conversation continued I felt more and more uncomfortable.  I mean was I supposed to be impressed that he didn’t want to spend time with his child – his own flesh and blood?  Intrigued because he was talking like he was fresh out of juvie? I mean didn’t the guy have anything better to do then get twatted at the weekend?

As I pretended to be interested in matey’s gripping social life I couldn’t help thinking: this guy thinks he’s Peter Pan. He has actually made a conscious decision  to never to grow up. Infact…He’s… he’s…

PETER PAN MAN!!! 

So maybe he’s just being friendly, I said to myself, after all I did tell him I was a student. But sure enough my instincts were right and as I went to pay up he slipped me his number with my receipt.

Okay so maybe you’re thinking I should be flattered by his natter, chuffed by his stuff, buzzin for some of his lovin’ but instead I felt like going home for a good cry.

IMPORTANT

Now before you think I have a vendetta against thirty-plus year old men I must clarify that I am not talking about all guys. Peter Pan Man is a very specific kind of guy; the kind of man who particularly likes young girls between, say, the ages of sixteen to twenty-five. (cough Berlusconi cough cough)

 Again just to clarify, I am not judging those couples out there who have a big age gap – that’s frankly none of my business and no one’s place to judge. It is, however, MY BUSINESS when letchy, creepy, infantile men (old enough to know better) act inappropriately or attempt to hit on me in public places.

“Never assume that older is wiser”

Now I don’t know about you, but I have always assumed older dudes are a lot wiser, confident, grounded and mature, than say, a guy in his early twenties, right? WRONG! It dawned on me that afternoon that some guys just never grow up, EVER!!!

Peter Pan Man evidently had some sort of warped identity crisis in which he had, for some unfathomable, unexplainable reason, woken up that morning with the belief he was Richmond’s answer to Hugh Hefner. I hate to be the one to break it to you bud, but you ain’t now or ever guna be Hugh.  

Oh Hugh!

Right up till my encounter with Pan Man, I used to console myself, when confronted with mind numbingly immature guys, with the hope that when they reach a certain age they will, ya know, grow up. They will evolve into emotionally developed beings, become truly confident as opposed to arrogant, be secure in who they are. They will want to settle down, enjoy time with their families, take care of their health, invest in their future…

The key revelation I made that day was NEVER assume that older is wiser.

 What makes me even more depressed is when I think of settling down in the future I envision growing old with a guy who is all of those admirable qualities I have just mentioned. But what is one supposed to do, if, by the time I am in my thirties (and potentially single), all the thirty year old men my age are trying to score twenty year old poontang?

Last summer I was on a running job in central London, dashing about the media district in Soho. I hadn’t had a lunch break so I decided to grab some grub at this trendy looking salad bar. These two guys in their mid thirties, dressed in sharp suits and smelling like Hugo Boss asked if they could sit at my table. It was one of those places with communal seating you see. They immediately started talking about sex, and how they were banging loads of Swedish chicks. Good for them. Awesome. Thanks for sharing. I was trying to just eat my couscous in peace but unfortunately I had tweedle dee and tweedle dum in my ear encroaching on my chill time with their b-movie sexual antics.

They then started asking me whether I thought they were attractive. I just smiled and pretended to check my phone. Next thing I know one guy says to the other… ‘you know I really fancy having sex with….’ and then described me. Me!? But they don’t even know me.  I just laughed it off thinking all the while ‘what a bunch of tossers’. They persevered. I fake laughed picked up my stuff and headed on out.  

I wasn’t even out of the door when they had the nerve to call out, ‘there’s nothing wrong with having fun – at least WE have a good time’.

Don’t humour me by insinuating I am boring alright. Not only did you ruin my lunch break now you’re trying to make me feel bad about myself. For your 411 I actually have great deal of fun. In fact my life is so fun filled my name is JOY!! So zip it zippy! – of course this mini monologue sounded great as an after thought but at the time I couldn’t actually believe what was happening. It wasn’t like it was after dark or in a rough part of town.

I don’t know what they were expecting? Me to turn round and go ‘Hell yes sugar daddy whisk me away to your candy castle?!’ Errrr…

The thing is, if they were guys my own age I probably would have taken it more lightly, but I actually felt pretty violated and degraded by the experience. It felt somehow inappropriate to give them a piece of my mind because they were older, evidently high earners and further up the social food chain then I was.

So the first thing that continues to baffle me about these Pan Man fellas is: What’s wrong with chicks your own age?????

Thanks to Madonna, Gwyneth Paltrow, Hellen Mirren, Jennifer Lopez and my mother, getting older is something I am no longer apprehensive about purely because these kick-ass women make it look so damn good. They are intelligent, experienced, independent, confident and at the same time look absolutely fabulous.

SATC ladies are over 30 and rocking it!! (Bet you wouldn’t mess with Samantha now would you!)

I have been chatting to tonnes of female friends about this subject and as it turns out there appears to be some kind of Pan Man epidemic sweeping the nation as we speak. They are creeping on the bus, lurking in the dark corners of night clubs, making lewd comments at you in the work place, tooting their horns at you as you walk to the post box. This is all fun and games but there is a fine line between complementing a person because they are hot stuff and acting like complete assholes.

 At my mate’s work place, the CEO of the company is always makes sexual innuendos at the young women in the office. It’s not even funny. His behaviour has been so ill-received that two female colleagues in the office have actually left their jobs because of it. Ughhh it’s just so infuriating. Do these kind of men not consider their behaviour is a tad off putting?

They wouldn’t dare talk like that to women their own age, probably because they know that they wouldn’t put up with that kind of shit. So what makes them think they should be able to get away talking to younger women like that?

Is it because young girls are more impressionable? Easier to coax into bed? Are young girls more disposable? Offer less commitment? Do you think we are easier to manipulate? (Okay, we probably are easier to manipulate but guess what, it doesn’t mean you should take advantage of that!)

I think the more obvious question is: Why does Pan Man think younger women would be interested in him in the first place? Do you think it’s because of your money? Your ‘experience’? You’re so called maturity? But young women love older men I hear you chant. Yes, I’m sure some do. But that doesn’t give you the licence to say or do whatever you want to whoever you want. I’m still a human being damnit.

“Just because I am under twenty five and have a vagina does NOT mean that I am EASY or SHALLOW or DESPERATE. So just chill out and back the f*ck up.“

Come on then I’m fascinated. How would you like us to respond? Do you want us to reciprocate or do you just like watching us squirm? 

I don’t think it’s harsh to suggest that serial offenders should be subjected to some kind of capital punishment. Castration. Castration. Castration.

So, to Peter Pan Man and friends… I have news for you. Just because I am under twenty five and have a vagina does NOT mean that I am EASY or SHALLOW or DESPERATE. So just chill out and back the f*ck up.

To all women who can relate – much love and respect to you. I think we just got to stick together on this one.

To all the great decent guys out there – love and respect to you too.

Gold diggers – a little less respect but still giving out lovin vibes your direction.

Have a great week peeps!!

x

Tags: Older men young women perverts

Categories: Love & Relationships Rant