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Cradle robbing is a pastime as old as time. We’re all well aware of celebrities who date way below the appropriate age range. But it’s still always rather jarring when you see those arrangements—and yes, they’re arrangements, don’t try to tell me that’s real love—in real life. You feel like you’re bumping up against some severe emotional…unrest? Trauma? Disturbances? I’ve sat at a restaurant before next to what was clearly one of these arrangements: a woman in her perhaps mid twenties was swooning over a man in his perhaps late seventies. Her affection seemed feigned—like she was acting—and the man sat almost ignoring her, eating his dinner. Based on the conversation, the two clearly had nothing in common or barely knew one another. They obviously had some understanding by which she provided, er, companionship, and he provided…who knows what. The whole thing made me a bit uneasy and then, the even more disturbing thing began to happen: people mistake my father and I for being in this kind of arrangement.
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I’m actually too young to be his daughter
They talk about men dating women young enough to be their daughter but get this: I’m too young to be my dad’s daughter. I’m in my thirties and he’s in his late seventies. He had me when he was pushing 50. So that makes it even more disturbing that people think I could be his girlfriend. But they do.
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There are the dirty looks
We get a lot of dirty looks when we’re out together—mostly from women around his age. But we get another type of dirty look and I mean a dirty look—and that’s from men his age who give him a creepy nod of approval, thinking, “Good for you, buddy.”
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And my peers talk to me differently
I know the regular way that other women my age tend to talk to me, and that’s not how they talk to me when I’m with my dad. Restaurant hosts, servers, shop owners, and other women my age we encounter will speak to me distantly and coldly—almost as if to say, “We are not the same, even though we are peers. I don’t engage in that kind of thing” (Aka a cradle-robbing thing).
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What has our society come to?
The most disturbing thing about it is how many people first assume I’m his girlfriend. They see us together, and their immediate reaction is to believe we are a couple. What has our society come to, that it’s more common to see a man in his seventies and a woman in her thirties and think, “They’re together” rather than, “Aw, a dad and daughter day.”
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Do daughters not hang with their dads?
Do daughters just not hang with their dads anymore? In a psychological mind field that’s too twisted to get into now, does one lead to the other? Is it A) Common knowledge that dads and daughters don’t spend time together and B) That lack of a father-daughter relationship makes these odd May/December romances so common?
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I can’t just hug my dad
I really get angry that I can feel people looking at us, and getting the wrong idea, because I can’t simply hug my dad, give him a kiss on the cheek, or tell him I love him. I can’t express affection, for fear people around will look at it the wrong way.
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Notary publics interrogate him
My dad and I have had to get some documents notarized over the years—financial documents—and the notary public will always run the, “Do you swear you are signing these documents by your own free will and nobody is pressuring you?” line by my dad. Just my dad. And give me a side glance as if to say, “Like, is this gold digging girlfriend forcing you to sign these?”
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The attempted flower sales
When those mobile flower vendors wander in and out of restaurants, they instantly rush over to my father and I and pressure my dad to buy one for me. And sometimes they give him a creepy wink.
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And the romantic menu offers
“How about a bottle of wine for the two of you?” or “Chocolate soufflé, two spoons?” Servers just love trying to sell my dad on the romantic menu items. I’m not going to share chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne with my dad, thank you very much!
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The “love is love” comment
There have been times we’ve been seated next to a true May/December, cradle-robbing couple, and someone in that couple will make an approving comment to us like, “Love is love, right?” Ah! No! We are not like you two! This is my dad.
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I sign my dad’s credit card
My dad can’t see very well, so when it’s time to pay the bill at a restaurant, he always just asks me to take over the credit card stuff. I give them his card, I calculate the tip on the receipt, and I sign it. I see the staff leering at us, as if I’m somehow doing something wrong—like forging his signature or taking money from him in some way.
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When we travel together
When my dad and I travel together, and check into a hotel, we’re usually asked, “Just one room?” What? No! Not one room. Two rooms, thank you very much. Well, the truth is, sometimes, if we stay somewhere quite expensive, we have to share a room, but even then the concierge will ask, “And will a King size bed work?” Uh…No. We will need two beds.
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The sighs of relief over the truth
If it does come out that my dad is in fact my dad—maybe because I refer to him as such—people will let out verbal signs of relief like, “Ooooh. He’s your father. Oh. That’s nice.”
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Also, I don’t look like that
I’m also confused/shocked/maybe flattered that people think I look like I could be one of those young gold diggers. I usually keep it very casual around my dad, wearing little to no makeup, a ponytail, and jeans. I always think of young gold diggers as wearing tons of makeup, having lip injections and extensions, and being dressed up. So…thanks for thinking I look that good? I guess?
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But I guess that reveals my prejudices
Of course, I reveal my own prejudices around what a young gold digger should look like by being shocked anyone thinks I look like one. I have to remind myself that, old men looking for young—young—women probably don’t care if said women wear makeup or not. It’s a score for them, either way.
