“The perfect antidote to my divorcee despair, he looked like a vintage Ryan Gosling and smelled like Mentos candy.” This was the moment I swore off all the young dudes: waking up sore and tangled in steamy sheets after another late night of raunchy RV sex. Next to me slumbered the gorgeous, long and lean man who, at 31, was young enough to be my son. And judging by the firm, hot pressure against my thigh, he would soon be raring to go again. “I can’t do this anymore, Mad Max,” I whispered,