I’m having a funny, sexy, love affair with a man 25 years younger than me

When we make love, I’m savouring every inch of the beautiful body tangled up with mine. The way his shoulders look; his wrists and hands… his lovely throat. “Remember this,” I tell myself. Every moment, every detail. I feel like I’m not just appreciating his body but inhabiting my own in a way I’ve never done before.

This man – as you might have guessed – is not my husband. But I’m not having an affair. I’m in love with a funny, sexy, very handsome man 25 years younger than me. And I’m having so much fun.

The sex may be off the charts – but it’s not just about that. And before you ask, no, I don’t feel awful and old beside his perfect body. I don’t wonder why he’s interested in me. Instead, I admire his beauty, thinking, “I’m going to drink in every minute of this, for as long as it lasts.”

My conventional earlier life

I am evangelical about dating a younger man now, but this wasn’t always the case. My ex-husband was only four years my junior and fresh out of Cambridge when we met. Meanwhile, I was a rookie beauty journalist working at Vogue.

My sister said I had to meet this handsome, 6ft 3in blond at her law firm. I said, “Not my type.” But he was gorgeous. We dated for six years before we married in 1999 – when he finally turned 29 (what I felt was an “acceptable” age to decide to spend the rest of your life with someone).

Our wedding was lovely and informal. We exchanged vows in the Saxon church in my Surrey village – me in a floaty Chloé dress – and then had a picnic in my parents’ garden.

We both were career driven. I worked at all the glossies – Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire, before being promoted to creative director of Glamour, the British one and then the US edition. So my 30s and 40s were spent travelling the world, working with the likes of Beyoncé, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kate Winslet and Renée Zellweger (Bridget Jones herself – who also discovers the delights of a younger man in the upcoming film).

We were so happy together, that it was 10 years before our first daughter, Anouk, came along in 2003, followed by her sister Bo six years later. My ex, as so many husbands do, moved down the pecking order in my life. My working in New York every month – and earning more than him – also can’t have helped our dynamic.

Moving to the country

When the girls were still primary-school age, we moved from Hackney to Wiltshire. I dreamt of the girls being raised in the countryside, surrounded by nature. I didn’t realise his longer working hours in town were significant – or notice the widening chasm between us.

I should have seen his six-year affair coming. But it blind-sided me. I loved all that we’d built together with our family; I couldn’t bear the idea of losing him. So I was utterly devastated when he left me. Like many marriage endings, it was drawn out over a couple of painful years, with me desperately clinging on and back-and-forth promises of forgiveness and trying again. But the trust was gone and something inside me had checked out.

Even though the last part of our marriage wasn’t great, I have no anger or bitterness towards my ex. For a long time we were happy; I look back and see our marriage as an amazing chapter in my life. Our divorce was only finalised last year, even though we’d been separated for seven years. He could have forced the sale of our house, like many ex-husbands do, but he allowed me to buy him out (mostly). And I’m so grateful for that. He remarried quickly and we now have a decent working relationship.

But enough about my ex. I want to talk about my hot vet – not my heartache.

My new life

For a long time after separating, romance was not on my mind at all. I’d left the magazine world by then – glossies had gone online and lost their shine – and my sole focus was on surviving, finding freelance work and giving my young daughters security. I assumed the girls, my garden and my cats were it. I was resigned to never having sex again. As a single mother in her late 40s, my overwhelming emotion was fear about the future.

Perhaps I needed to marry a banker, I thought. Then I reasoned that it might take five years to find one and persuade him to marry me. I realised that I could start my own business in the same time frame – which is exactly what I did, with Spots & Stripes, my skincare company for teens, inspired by my daughters.

Building Spots & Stripes became crucial to rebuilding my identity and becoming the “smart, independent, fulfilled” 50-something woman “V” says he first fell for back in December 2020. He is a vet, so it would have been cute if we’d met over the consulting table while he was treating one of my three large Maine coons. But no, we met in the usual, modern way – on a dating app.

I’d begun dipping my toe into the dating world earlier that year. I’d met a few men my own age, all perfectly nice – but I realised I didn’t want “nice”. I didn’t want to swap stories about divorce and children. I wanted something different.

With a friend egging me on, I switched my dating age range to 27-39, and the pictures immediately looked so much better. The conversations were fun. Once you’re no longer looking for The One, it’s liberating (I just ignored the d--k pics). I enjoyed a fling with a man in his early 30s before seeing V’s beautiful face and swiping right.

He was stupidly good looking – and a vet! At first, I was worried it was a fake account, all too good to be true. We matched straight away, exchanged a few messages (non-sexy but flirty/interesting) and met a month later in a restaurant in Bath, as he was then living in Bristol and working in the South West. I didn’t dress up sexily, or feel nervous, I was sure he was also dating younger women and had no expectations. Over dinner (he paid) we talked about everything – travelling, work, him growing up in post-communist Transylvania, the romance of Hungary – it was surprising and exciting. His brown eyes locked into mine. The fact he was just 27 and there was a huge age gap didn’t seem to matter.

At the end of the evening, he pulled me into his arms and hugged me. One of the best hugs I’ve ever had (it had been so long since I’d been held). I remember thinking how incredibly hard his chest and arms felt. I didn’t want it to end. We walked up to the Royal Crescent and kissed with Bath below us. I felt like a teenager.

I went home to Wiltshire slightly shell-shocked. He had made me feel so desired. I didn’t question why he’d want an older woman. I couldn’t doubt our chemistry. From then on it just grew into something more. We’d meet up briefly after work. I’d send him pictures of my view; he’d send me videos of the forests of his home country and always sent sweet good-night messages. On the evening of Christmas Day, with the girls occupied with their new presents, I snuck out in my car, taking him a dinner of turkey with all the trimmings. We sat under blankets and kissed and looked at the stars until late. I returned home flushed and happy, but the girls didn’t notice.

Our connection

A few days later, when the girls were with their father and I was home alone, V came over, walked me upstairs and we made love for the first time. By then, our connection was so strong, even the slightest touch was electrifying. We didn’t have to speak, we still don’t – we just have to look at each other.

Can I be clear that I’m a million miles from Mrs Robinson in The Graduate. And I’m definitely not a “cougar” (such an outdated concept). V is very much in charge. When we make love, it’s like a dance, I follow him and let go. Complete surrender. That’s the deal.

In the rest of my life, I’m in charge of everything. So letting him lead is actually a relief. If you’ve seen Nicole Kidman’s recent film Babygirl, where she plays an older woman with a sexually confident young man, you’ll know something about that dynamic (but I’m not into drinking milk on the floor).

Of course, sometimes, I do think, “God, I hope my stomach doesn’t look bad from this angle.” Or wish I still had my 30-something breasts. But I try not to let those thoughts creep in, I can see how obviously turned on he is. We make love in daylight or with the lights on. He really wants to look at me. He doesn’t need instructions, “I know what to do,” he says, “because I can just feel you.” V has taught me not to “think” so much, too – urging me to “just feel”.

Even when I was in my 20s and happily in love with my husband (a very good-looking man), I didn’t notice everything during love making the way I do with V. I think that’s an age thing. You really appreciate what is happening.

He’s totally uninhibited, he’ll do naked handstands and encourage me to be less self-conscious, wrestling me, teasing me and making it fun. We laugh a lot, he’s like a big puppy at times but also can be dark, intense and full of masculine energy.

Oh, and – sorry if this looks like I’m bragging – V’s also studied Tantra, so he makes love for a long time. Which is what most women, particularly ones my age, need.

Why it works

The fact we’re from different countries and generations doesn’t seem to matter. Or that we enjoy different books and films. There’s no need to talk about world news, mortgages or the children in the way you would with a husband.

When I’m in V’s arms, everything that’s normally whirring around in my head goes still. I’m not Charlotte, the mother, the former slightly glamorous career woman, or even the entrepreneur I am now. He cuts through all of that, I’m just me.

Many people assume he’s looking for a mother figure, or someone to pick up the bills. But he earns a good salary as a locum vet and often lives at whichever veterinary surgery he’s based at across the country. We don’t tend to do expensive things, and if we eat out, he tends to pay.

Our weekends are quiet – we cook, we sit by the fire (make love by the fire), we garden (make love in the garden), go for walks (make love in fields). Maybe other young men would find this dull, but we find it calming. Four years on, our connection remains as strong as ever. For birthdays he likes to get my age in roses (that’s a lot of roses) and once bought me a lawn mower – not an obvious “romantic” present but I needed one and so I was happy. This year I’d finally had my ears pierced and he got me some diamond studs. He’s not into material things for himself, so my perfect gift to him was a skydive. He hates the fuss at Christmas, which is fine, as I love spending it with the girls.

There’s been criticism…

I remember neighbours in my village whispering that it would never last. My youngest daughter thought he was fun, but my eldest was initially hostile. V would say hello and be ignored. I understood, though. Anouk is only 10 years younger than him and that made her uncomfortable. Now Bo says I should be looking for someone older, to be a father figure for them. I’ve told her, you have your own dad for that.

Anouk is at university and Bo is away at school, so I feel that I now have space for someone for me. Is that so selfish, really?

My ex has never commented or criticised me. I’m happy for him that he’s married and I feel neutral towards his wife (who is not his affair partner). We are all in a good place now. This is not about me gloating in any way.

What the future holds

People ask, will you marry him? I always reply, “We’re just enjoying it – not making plans”. He tells me when he’s with me that he feels “home”. We don’t live together, though. I’m used to my own life with the girls and don’t think I could live 24/7 with a man again. He likes to have his own space and time to do his things.

V comes at the weekends or we enjoy a treat mid-week visit. He’s something to look forward to at the end of a long work week. It means it never gets boring. When he walks through the door there’s always lots of hugging, kissing, touching.

We both said “I love you” about nine months after meeting. I didn’t think, “Oh God, he’s falling in love with me”. I just felt happy. Not scared. I think that’s the perspective that age gives you – to grab happiness where you can. After my marriage ended, I just assumed love, romance and sex were over for me.

This relationship has helped me let go of fear. I just made the leap and opened myself up to whatever might happen. Living in the moment, not letting the fear of a broken heart in the future put me off and really living now. The only problem is, I think I’m now ruined for any future relationship with an older man. But as V has taught me – I can’t fear tomorrow. I’m enjoying myself far too much today.

As told to Susanna Galton