Attack of the 20-Somethings: Flex Your Mussels, Boys

Over the weekend, I saw two dear friends of mine. Both men, both successful, both extremely good looking, tall, kind, with physiques that put most twenty-somethings to shame. One is an pal from high school, one a roommate from college. Our relations have always been platonic, and that works well for us. At this point, we’re family, clichéd though that is.

The men don’t know each other, but each wanted to see me for the exact same reason. It appears as though they’ve given their big, thumping 36-year old hearts to women they'd like to marry. But those buoyant hearts have met the sharp stiletto heel of someone who doesn’t want to go that route. Yet. Or maybe ever. They're not sure.

Though unrequited love is not unusual, their situations share a coincidence: both of my boys have fallen for twenty-three year old girls.

That’s right; one girl is just out of college, and one is still attending. My boys were kicking up their heels to “Shout” on suburban bar mitzvah dance floors when these young chicklets passed from their mother’s loins.

And hey, I’m all for dating hot young things, but to see these extraordinary men undone in such a way is baffling. They are accomplished professionals and good men, crying in their beers, desperately clinging to their cell phones in hopes of a random text message. They’re confused, weakened, totally beaten up. I’ve never seen them this way before.

They’ve begged these girls back, sent passive-aggressive packages of “stuff you left at my house” filled with returned gifts and memories of better times. They’ve written poetry, songs and even offered jobs and money. With each of these earnest attempts, the applets of their eyes drift further away. Desperation is ever so unappealing.

So why aren’t these men dating women their own age?

Bite your tongue. Though they could be dating the women they’ve grown up with…the doctors, lawyers, TV personalities, journalists…accomplished women they’ve known and loved who, as far as I’m told, are solidly improving with age. But why go for a complex Bordeaux when you can suck down a drinkable Beaujoulais?

Because...

• “Women our age don’t look at us the same way younger women do; they don’t look up to us.”
• “They have their own lives. These girls are blank slates.”
• “They’re old. They’ve only got 5 to 7 years left to have kids. I don’t want to deal with that.”
• "Honestly? They're intimidating."

So this is what has become of my male peers. The mid-thirties woman, unable to get dates for the aforementioned reasons end up taking matters into their own hands. After years online dating, she's shopping for something new: sperm. Once she's mourned the perfect life she'll never have, she's content to create her own family unit. After all, she's got a great job, makes a bunch of money, has ample love to give, and most importantly, the desire to do it. Eggs wait for no man.

Thirty-something men and women both want to settle down. Allegedly. Yet they continue to pick partners that just don't want the same things they do. Then mourn them with earnest aching. But they stay single, and don’t seriously consider one another.

While my marriage-ready male friends desperately stalk their former loves on Facebook, 30-something women start flirting with the 20-somethings too. (Jarred sperm can only do so much.)

As it turns out, 20-somethings are fun. And casual. Nope, they’re not emotionally available either. In fact, I’m wondering who is, but I’ll save that pondering for another blog. For now, my peers and I are looking to just enjoy life before we get knocked up with sperm from a guy we’ll never meet. (And you thought technological streamlining was all iPods and YouTube. Now we've found a way to avoid the ultimate middleman: man himself.)

Today’s 30-something woman has been liberated to a place where our men no longer feel needed by us. Or wanted. Or adored. So they get groovy with girls who would have been illegal to date at their 30th birthday, who make them feel big and important, until these girls see something newer and shinier, get bored and move on.

I don’t blame these girls for the games they’re playing; hell, I’ve done it too. The 20s are for playing. As was said by a 28-year old man I know, “I don’t know how your friends date those girls. I try, I mean, they’re cute and all, but you just can't count on them. They don’t return text messages or emails; they’re just too immature.”

I wonder if he'll feel the same way when he's in his mid-thirties. He's got a while before then. After all, the chicklet who'll break his heart just bought her first bra.


Mussels Provencale
Serves 2 as dinner, 4 as appetizer

In these complicated times, simple is best. Make yourself a pot of mussels: it’s the ultimate 30 minute meal. This recipe is just the beginning -- play with add-ins like blue cheese, cream, celery leaves, mushrooms (though not all at the same time). Children of all ages like to eat with their hands; it's a perfect meal for whomever your friends bring to dinner.

1 2-ounce piece slab bacon (about 1/4-inch thick), cut into 1-inch lardons
2 tablespoons butter
1 large shallot, minced
3/4 cup white wine or beer
3 pounds mussels, rinsed and de-bearded
2/3 cup grape tomatoes, halved
1/2 to 1 cup chicken stock or clam juice, if needed
1/3 cup chopped parsley
Baguette, for serving

1. In a wide pot (braising pots are a deal) over medium heat, add butter. When it foams, add bacon and cook until it begins to caramelize, about 4 minutes.

2. Add shallot and cook until softened, about 4 minutes. Add wine or beer, bring to a simmer. Add mussels, cover, and cook until opened, about 5 to 7 minutes.

3. Add tomatoes to pot and cook until warmed through, about 2 minutes. There should be a nice amount of liquid in the bottom of the pan if you’d like more, add chicken stock of clam juice. Remove from heat, stir in parsley and serve with a warmed baguette.