The False Source of Collagen : How a Random Guy Tried to Sell Me Youth and Got a Masterclass in Boundaries

Hello, community. As a writer, my profile is public. It's an open door for readers, colleagues, and interesting debates. But sometimes, through that same door, something else crawls in: the audacity of someone who thinks a direct message is a VIP pass to ignore all dignity.

Today I want to share a case. Not to give importance to the sender, but to highlight the importance of the response. The names, obviously, are changed. The arrogance, sadly, is 100% original.

The Dialogue (or the monologue with tiny interruptions of reality):

Him: (After a "hello, how are you?" and a compliment that probably works on… someone) Where are you from?

Me: I'm from Querétaro, Mexico. And I'm married. (Here, folks, we call this setting a boundary. In bold, underlined, and with a period the size of a planet.)

Him: Married people are good. I like older women. And like me, they should be understanding.

Me: Congratulations. May you find one on your path. (First attempt at a polite deflection. A gentle curve to exit the conversational highway.)

Him: How old are you?

Me: (I ignore the question and respond with air)

Him: Well, you're in good shape, you look 30.

Me: Thanks, it's genetics. (Here, my mistake. I should have left the "thanks" out. Note to self: never accept compliments from people who think "I'm married" is an opening bid.)

Him: Very nice. So I want us to be friends. Maybe you like younger guys too much.

Me: Haha. (That wasn't laughter. That was the sound of my eyes completing their third orbit around the solar system.)

Him: No, I actually like my husband. I have kids and raising them is a challenge; actually, I don't feel like having another. Do you want me to adopt you? (Joking aside) I'm not an unfaithful person.

Him: But I just want to be friends.

Me: (this time, with the clarity of a WhatsApp double blue check): You should look for someone your own age, and if I've already set the boundary of "I'm married," you should respect it.

The straw that broke the camel's back: You tell me "I want us to be friends":

1. You want to, I don't. That's not a duo, it's a monologue.

2. You went back to "maybe you like younger guys." That's not wanting to be friends. That's crossing a boundary that's been clearly marked since minute one.

3. The rest is unnecessary. Kid, go see a psychologist, work out your issues with your mom, and find someone your own age. Preferably someone who also thinks "I'm married" means "please continue."

Him: Sure. I will. I want someone to help me connect. I'm sure you don't want collagen in your life.

Me: blocked (The only appropriate response. The verbal equivalent of hanging up mid-sentence.)

The Reflection (or the part where I serve hot tea and facts):

I could talk about the lack of respect, the culture of persistence, the inability to read a "no" written in capital letters, underlined, with a flashing neon arrow pointing at it. But today I want to go to something more concrete, to the root of one of his "compliments": the obsession with apparent youth.

He told me: "you look 30." As if that were the holy grail. As if a woman's value resided in her ability to fool Father Time with good lighting and a filter.

Here's my reflection on beauty and life, free and without an appointment: Collagen is not obtained from young people.

I repeat, in case anyone still has doubts: COLLAGEN. IS NOT. OBTAINED. FROM. YOUNG. PEOPLE. (Yes, I used periods. Read it with the gravity of a public service announcement.)

Collagen, that protein that keeps our skin firm and our joints fluid, is found:

1. In serious creams (which hydrate, but whose effects are about as deep as his conversation skills).

2. In supplements and multivitamins (that support from within, patiently, unlike this guy).

3. In a balanced diet, in the water we drink, in the sleep we prioritize, and in the mental peace we cultivate.

It is NOT found, nor extracted, nor magically transferred by dating someone twenty years younger. There's no mystical youth osmosis. There is no "age exchange program" where you absorb their freshness by proximity. What there often is, is a very clear transfer of problems: immaturity, lack of direction, a desperate need for validation, and, as we saw, a flagrant inability to understand that "no" is a complete sentence.

Looking for a "young person" to feel young is like buying a sports car to feel fast. It's pure appearance, an expensive and potentially problematic placebo. The car might look good, but you're still the same person behind the wheel, just with more debt and a sore back.

Real youth—the kind that shines in the eyes and is felt in the energy—doesn't come packaged in a person. It's built with habits, with self-esteem, and with enough wisdom to block out those who only see a body but don't read the person inside.

Personally, I love blocking out young guys... when they think they have the right to invade my space with their projection of insecurities. It's a mental sport. And writing material. And honestly? Great content for days when I need a reminder that boundaries are beautiful.

And today's lesson for guys who do this is clear: if you want collagen, go to the pharmacy, the nutritionist, or the grocery store. Not to a stranger's inbox. The pharmacy has better results and fewer rejection letters.

I close with this: Respect is the best anti-aging filter. And a "no" said in time is the most effective rejuvenating cream for the soul.

Signed: The writer who prefers her collagen in serum form, not in her DMs.

Has something similar happened to you? How do you handle boundaries with strangers on social media? I'll read you (comments with respect, please. The others? You know where they go. Straight to the block list, with no forwarding address).