My mum was visiting my new flat when someone shouted my name from outside.
‘Not right now!’ I called through the open window.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Mum.
‘Oh, just a friend,’ I replied.
In fact, it was my boyfriend Stuart. But there was a reason I was keeping him secret from Mum.
At just 22, Stuart was 14 years younger than me and I thought that might shock her.
To be honest, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about dating a much younger man. In my 20s, I’d gone the other way, dating fellas older than me.
I’d loved the idea that they were reining in my wild side and keeping me in check.
But as I got older, I felt the men I was going for wanted me to be as obsessed with settling down, getting a mortgage and paying into the pensions as they were. But I still just wanted to have fun
Then Stuart had come up to me at the gym and we’d hit it off.
At first, I was worried about the age gap, but then I thought: He’s just so fit, hot and fun!
So now, while most of my friends from home were following the classic blueprint of moving in with their partners and having kids, I was having lots of fun with a much younger man!
But still, I wasn’t ready for Mum to know about the age gap.
When our friends at the gym found out, they didn’t seem shocked and I introduced Stuart to my flatmates too.
Things were going well until one day, he popped over clutching a bin bag stuffed full of clothes.
‘Do you mind washing these for me?’ he asked.
‘Certainly not, I’m not your mother,’ I replied.
I sent him — and his bag of smelly laundry — home.

His insatiable desire to be out partying began to exhaust me too.
Late one evening, I was about to get ready for bed when he said: ‘Come on! The night’s still young, let’s have a few drinks and keep going!’
‘I’ve got to be up at five tomorrow for work,’ I said, sleepily. ‘Time for bed.’
But, like a kid pestering for a toy, he wouldn’t let it go and the argument escalated.
Grabbing all his stuff, I opened the window and tossed it out.
Stuart ran outside and as he gathered it up, he called up to me: ‘I can’t find my other shoe.’
‘You’ll have to go home without it!’ I said, shrugging.  
But while it hadn’t worked out with Stuart, it hadn’t put me off younger men.
As I uploaded my profile to a dating site, I slid the lower age range down to 25 and soon I’d matched with a 25-year-old sexy Australian guy called Michael.
But while he could match my libido in the bedroom, I found it was always me organising our dates and clearing up after him when he came to mine.
When I caught him distractedly watching porn on his phone on a date to the cinema to see Moulin Rouge, I walked out without a word and never contacted him again.
I began to question why I kept trying to date younger men. But as I hit my mid-40s, I met James at a singles night. He was only six years younger than me and we clicked instantly. Our sexual chemistry was intense too.
By now, I was working for a hotel gym and we’d spend weekends on discounted luxury stays away. His nickname for me was ‘Minx’.
As our relationship progressed, I thought I’d finally hit on the perfect age gap. Someone who matched my energy in the bedroom, but who might also enjoy a night in now and again.
For the first time in my life, I began to see myself settling down with him.
One day, we were on a romantic walk, when I found myself blurting out: ‘Let’s have a baby!’
A look of shock flickered across his face.
‘We’re fine just the two of us,’ he said.
We continued our walk in an uncomfortable silence and I could tell he was angry with me for ruining the morning.
His reaction had left me heartbroken and while I tried to push my feelings aside, something had changed between us.
I was going to work in Switzerland for a few weeks and on the morning I left, James started an argument.

We parted on bad terms, so I decided not to message him while I was away.
It gave me time to think and I realised I’d forgotten who I was.
When I flew back, I called James from the airport and said: ‘I’m sorry, I think we need to break up.’
He started insulting me down the phone, calling me stupid, so I hung up.
Afterwards, I sank into a depression about wasting my fertile years with an angry younger man who it turned out didn’t want a child with me.
‘I just don’t know what social media has done to the younger generation of men,’ I complained to a friend.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘They’re so flaky now.’
‘They think older women are silly enough to put up with anything,’ I replied.
Over the next years, I swore off dating, focusing on my career as a yoga teacher instead. I wanted to get my finances in shape so that I might be in a position to foster a child instead.

Then finally, once I felt happy in myself again, I felt ready to date again. This time, on the dating app, I set the age range at 45 to 55.
Soon, I’d arranged to meet up with a 52-year-old man and while there weren’t any fireworks between us, I was impressed by his quiet self-assurance, silver fox looks and his old-fashioned manners.
As I turned 50, I sat down with a pen and paper.
I’m going to make a list of all the pros and cons of dating an older man, I decided.
The positives flowed easily from my pen and it confirmed to me that I’d never go back to dating immature younger men who didn’t know how to treat a woman.
I’m now in perimenopause and I’ve had to accept I’ll never have a baby of my own after wasting my time with the wrong men.
A short course of therapy has helped me make my peace with that, but still I feel like a cautionary tale — how not to have a family.

However, I know I could be an amazing foster mum and that’s my focus now.
I also haven’t lost hope of finding love. While I like my simple life, and I’m not aggressively chasing a relationship, it would be great to meet someone to share things with.
I know other women may have been envious of my gorgeous twentysomething boyfriends, but if they knew the truth, they’d think again.
I might have dabbled with dating a trio of toyboys. But from now on, I’m all about the silver foxes!
• All names have been changed except Amanda’s.