It's Like That.

It was not as though we did not already know it. People - women - liked to pretend. Even lying to themselves that it does not matter. It all depends on where you are at in life.

Daddy Long Legs gives one some hope. A mature man who falls in love with a woman, a girl, young enough to be his daughter. Daughter? More like granddaughter these days.

Don't all stories, however farfetched, come from reality? If it is depicted on film, the writer or storyteller was probably - possibly - inspired by something in real life. They could never have pulled such an idea out of thin air!

Even religious texts propagate the notion of the older man and his younger - much younger - amour. There is the unwritten rule, of course. For the unwashed male masses, the singletons, there are criteria. There has to be.

On a planet heading towards ten billion humans, to find that one person one is compatible with is a Herculean task. That is even before liking or before loving. That is some mission.

One looks for commonalities, mutual attraction and proximity. After all, we are not all as financially flexible as the fictional Jervis Pendleton of Daddy Long Legs. Most will find a 'someone' who is close by, who grew up close by.

By nature, we are a lazy species. It is all well and good for the not-so-fictional, Michael Caine, to spot his would-be wife on television and decide he wants to meet her. He had seen her in a coffee commercial set in Brazil and was determined to find her.

For the less famous male, such an option is not realistic. Even in these internet-accessible times, where everybody is contactable, stalking is frowned upon.

Caine's wife - Shakira, a former Guyanese model, not the hip-shaking Columbian singer - lived less than two miles from him. He did not have to scour the globe for her. See? Proximity.

The body grows old, closer to the dirt every passing day. But the eyes, the eyes forget. The brain forgets, fools, lies. Attractive, lithe bodies to twenty-year-old eyes are still alluring to fifty-year-old eyes.

Life is not fair. Men, able to sire into their dotage, benefit more from that. A millionaire or billionaire will always have more options - regardless of age - than the rest.

Morality and indignation aside, that is the way of the world. They also get the pick of the prettiest girls and women. Many will say it is not the money. That may well be true but money, the security it affords, definitely makes a difference.

That difference tends to be reflected in confidence, regardless of age. Confidence is attractive. Money, not necessarily the numbers but the ability to accumulate it, is the weapon of the modern warrior. The fiercest warrior has always gotten the most desirable mate.

Still, the mind wanders, dreams. What if? The lie that romcoms peddle might be true. Maybe it is all about attraction and love and sweetness and singing, laughter and a frisson of something that makes one know they have made the right choice.

The realist, cynical, pragmatic voice says that is so much hogwash. What person beyond the age of adolescence would entertain such nonsense? Be a grown-up and conform. Get a job, be a breadwinner.

The dreamer looks at the pragmatist, the cynic and knows they are afraid and are tiptoeing their way to death, hoping there is some reward for doing 'it' all right.

The realist looks at the dreamer and thinks him a fool. The belief in fairness, a society becoming more accepting of foibles, is an idealistic pipedream.

The reality, in these times, is probably somewhere in-between.