“Careful old-timer, your age is showing.”“Hey, I’m only thirty-two. I’m in my prime, woman!”She harrumphed. “Well, I’m a mere twenty-five and you’re way too old for me.”Jay’s eyes smoldered as he whispered, “My experience is your gain.”

“I’m thirty,” I said. “I’m five years too old to lie to myself and call it honor”

“The truth is, part of me is every age. I’m a three-year-old, I’m a five-year-old, I’m a thirty-seven-year-old, I’m a fifty-year-old. I’ve been through all of them, and I know what it’s like. I delight in being a child when it’s appropriate to be a child. I delight in being a wise old man when it’s appropriate to be a wise old man. Think of all I can be! I am every age, up to my own.”

“How old are you?”“Physiologically, I’m twenty-five. Chronologically, I’m…not.”

“You’re a fucking miracle,” he whispered against my skin and I closed my eyes. I loved that he thought that about me. “I’m a woman,” I whispered back. “You’re an angel.”

“In your thirties something strange starts to happen. It’s a mere hiccup at first, an instant of hesitation. How old are you? Oh, I’m — you start confidently, but then you stop. You were going to say thirty-three, but you’re not. You’re thirty-five. And then you’re bothered, because you wonder if this is the beginning of the end. It is, of course, but it’s decades before you admit it.”