His condemnation of marriage as a bourgeois convention makes him more of a tired, sad cliché than the ones he's using to describe matrimony.
Since I've been with Bronson, we've averaged three weddings a year.
A man who came of age in the 1960s, before the women's movement exploded, when his (more likely than not) stay-at-home mom did the cooking and cleaning, might have to work hard at accepting the fact that his life won't be just like his dad's.
A man who came of age in the 1970s or '80s doesn't think twice about being married to a woman with her own career, or splitting the household chores with her.
(In France.) Another guy old enough to have danced naked at Woodstock stared incredulously at my alternative rock CD collection ("I've never even heard of any of these guys," he said, waving around a Pearl Jam CD) and asked if I had any Kenny G or Jimmy Buffet.
A guy who has spent the past 20 years in a well-insulated rut will make you tell his astounded buddies about the time you were in "a whaddya call it? " You may have the feeling that your relationship now qualifies as his official Walk on the Wild Side.
Parties, rock concerts, nightclubs—I dated the way I should have when I was younger: for fun, without an eye toward marriage. During that time, when I was in my late 30s, I made an important sociological discovery: Men over 40 are profoundly different from those under 35, and it's not just their hairlines.
After 12 increasingly dreary years capped by a wrenching divorce, I couldn't imagine why women in my situation (childless divorcées) complained about the prospect of reentering single life. Wasn't finally having some laughs, romance, and excitement the way to take the "crisis" out of "midlife"?
I look at him, stunned that he could forget such a big part of 1973. You'd really dig it." Or "Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins!
We've been together for seven years now, and I'm so used to considering Bronson my peer that I often forget about our 13½-year age difference. In the beginning, if I wasn't thinking, Is he too young for me? someone else was thinking it for me—and blurting out, "Hey, have you seen How Stella Got Her Groove Back?
Home cooking was something Bronson always hoped to experience, not The Way Things Used to Be.
He'd walk a mile for my chocolate Kahlúa cheesecake, and he immediately bragged about my spaghetti sauce to his friends, who were envious of anything that didn't arrive by delivery boy.The vast majority of couples we knew simply lived together.