When I’m 53 I want to be like Inge. She is my 50-something role model.

With her toned, tanned body and dazzling white smile, she is a picture of health and happiness. But after 20 years of teaching yoga, she has much to smile about. Not for her the stress and mundanity of an office job. Her lower back isn’t wrecked from slouching over a computer and phone – quite the opposite, through stretching perfecting her posture. She stands solid and proud with broad, strong shoulders, a solid frame, but toned tum decorated with a belly button ring and a tiny dove tattoo on her right shoulder blade. And it is all set off with her golden brown Danish skin and tousled blonde hair.

Inge is a great advert for yoga, with a physique to put many woman 20 years younger to shame. She has a few laughter lines and hasn’t had time-delaying surgery, but this natural beauty speaks much louder than a pumped and stretched face; it shows a woman who has had a full and interesting life and is still having fun now.

Inge is divorced with two grown up children who have moved out, so she is free to do as she wishes with her ‘toy boy’ of 39. I imagine them having wild and bendy sex, Inge commanding him to take her on the stairs or reverse cowgirl-ing him in the bedroom, her spherical breasts bouncing, sweat trickling down her smooth brown stomach and her hair damp around her forehead.

I also think about Carl getting his own back, dismounting his motor bike, dirty and sweaty and Inge hot and flustered after a yoga session. He calls her a naughty girl, playfully smacks her luscious backside and runs his fingers down her vest and yoga pants. It all becomes too urgent to wait. He throws off his leathers and rolls up her vest, peeling it off her, cupping one of her breasts in his palm and hungrily nibbling it. The yoga pants come off and soon they are both naked against the kitchen wall. It is quick, sweaty and noisy, but full of passion. She may be 14 years his senior, but she exudes sex, charisma and self-confidence.

So, where was I? Yes, I would love to be the kind of woman Inge is when I’m 53, accepting my age and looking after myself, but not denying myself fun and mischief. I just got a little distracted by the sex bit…

Silver fox versus young buck

‘Age before beauty’, ‘youth is wasted on the young’, ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’, ‘youth’s a stuff will not endure’… etc. Is there no end to the number of things people have to say about youth and age.

Following last week’s musings and in response to one of my readers (hi there, ‘Lou’), I am looking at whether it’s better to wind up with an older or younger lover.

The only problem here is that ‘older’ or ‘younger’ is a rather moveable feast as I am becoming rather older myself. In my mid-twenties I had a drunken interlude with a man of 45 which at the time felt like being with a much older man. Whereas now, I would think 45 was not that old, really. I also remember at a similar age (I must have been hot stuff at this point in my life – pity I squandered it) rejecting the advances of an 18-year-old, telling him he was just too young. I would be lucky at my current age for someone of 30 to approach me and besides, I am just not attractive /youthful enough to be a MILF.

So, all I can do is take a not-too-serious look at older and younger men, drawn from my experiences and if I over-generalise, tough – it saves me sending out a questionnaire.

Younger guys obviously have the advantage of bouncy, springy bodies, faster metabolisms and natural muscle tone. But occasionally their hormones are all over the place which means they can still get the odd zit. They probably keep up with the latest fashions, but their lack of financial planning often means they don’t have enough to buy decent undies – I remember an ex who had tatty old pants which were just gusset hanging off an elastic waistband.

Older guys usually know what suits them, so are less likely to commit clothing crimes, unless they are trying too hard to look hip and ‘down with the kids’ by wearing jeans halfway down their posteriors. A few bits of grey hair can also give a man an edge of distinction. Laughter lines also look good on men, but sadly make women look rather tired.

Conclusion: Close draw – I don’t dress for fashion, just choose the bits I like, so would feel self-conscious around an ultra-trendy young guy. But I would enjoy his firm butt.

Idea of a good time                                                                                                           I have never been drawn to any man for his wallet so will take older guy’s spending power out of the equation, even if it does mean a night away in a posh hotel.

Young guy could probably take me to a gig of a band I have never heard of or out to a night club where I would not be able to hear a word he said. He would also talk to me in ‘youff’ vernacular which I wouldn’t understand.

Older guy could regale me with anecdotes about his adventures and references to TV shows which were before my time. I wouldn’t object to the occasional trip to the garden centre or tour of a stately home, but if this were every week, I would vault over the nearest fence and make my escape.

Conclusion: Even Stevens.

Sex skills                                                                                                                      The young guy would obviously have fantastic stamina and be able to go numerous rounds, if he could re-assemble his soldiers quickly after each battle. Or he may explode and shoot his load within 30 seconds of entry, if it all gets a bit too much for him. The other down side could be his fumbling attempts at foreplay. My experiences suggest he would make a rough attempt at locating my ‘bean’, abandon it after a few seconds then push my head onto his member, swiftly shove himself inside me and go at it like a pneumatic drill until he has satisfied himself. I did warn you there would be generalisations here!

Older guy on the other hand may have problems mobilising his army who are liable to sit around smoking or drinking tea. However, assuming this isn’t a problem and that I have the fortune to be with an experienced older guy (as, dear reader, age doesn’t necessarily mean experience), he will have an impressive foreplay repertoire. The older guys I have encountered also tend to be rather less selfish about ensuring we both enjoy our roll in the hay.

Conclusion: Older guy by a silver whisker, but there are exceptions to every rule and I recall an amazing session with an athletic youth who had a natural aptitude for good, unselfish bonking. I also know he married a woman eight years his senior (lucky bitch).

So, there it is, a non-scientific comparison with no overall conclusion. Age is just a number and if you have the thing/mojo/chemistry/je ne sais quoi it doesn’t matter if you’re 22 or 62 – I won’t discriminate.