So I decided to put thirty-five down as a range. It’s just my way of asserting that I can still fit within that category, even if I’m not exactly thirty-five. One ex, Lauren, still doesn’t know my real age. I don’t think, anyway. It never really seemed to matter to her, which is why I’m just hoping to get my foot in the door. I also know this is probably wrong, but I’m just not that attracted to older women. They remind me of my mom, and always demand more. They “want to know where this is going.” It’s like when women are too you they take themselves to seriously, because they haven’t been with enough men. And yet, by the time most women reach their thirties, they begin to take each relationship too seriously, because they’re tired of having been with so many men. Then, what it seems like to me is that who I am becomes irrespective of what role and position I can provide for them. In other words, it’s like I’ve become interchangeable. Women in their thirties look at me as a source of income, a husband, a father, not as John.
John’s Take On Age
