I went to dinner with my mom last week for my birthday. I turned 38. On the way out, a guy stopped me and asked me out. I could tell he was younger than me.
We exchanged numbers and texted for a few days. I kept thinking, Doesn’t he know I’m older than him? Does he care? Why hasn’t he asked my age? Because I’m me, I did some research and found out he was six years younger than me. I debated canceling. I didn’t.
We went on a date, and it was great. I couldn’t feel the age difference at all.
I’m not a dating-app gal. I like meeting people organically. That said, I also like knowing your age, job, astrology sign (a dating-app perk), and whether I’m hotter than your ex, plus a few other details so I can act surprised when you tell me what I already know.
When people find out my age, I get the whole, “No way, you don’t look like it.”
GOOD. Because it’s painful and expensive.
And even though it’s meant as a compliment, it still somehow makes me feel old. When they tell me I don’t seem like it either, I wonder what exactly a 38-year-old is supposed to seem like.
Then come the follow-up questions: Are you married? Do you have kids? Which pretty much answers that.
Had I met him on an app, I would’ve known his age. Or actually, I wouldn’t have, because he wouldn’t have been in my pool in the first place. Too young. Immature. Not enough life experience. Not established or ready for what I want. Which means we never would’ve met at all.
It’s funny how dating younger feels like a scarlet letter for women, but a trophy for men. Maybe that shifts at a certain age, but when you’re 38 and he’s 32, it’s different. My biological clock feels loud. His feels optional.
There’s this fear that if I date him, let it turn into something, and it eventually ends, I’ve wasted time I could’ve spent building a life with someone else. Kids. Marriage. All the things we’re told we’re supposed to be racing toward.
And yet, all my relationships, whether they were my age or older, haven’t worked out, often for the same fears I have about dating younger. Among other reasons, including an ex who was two years younger.
I don’t see that time as wasted. They taught me a lot about myself.
But as I approach 40, time feels louder. It felt the same as I approached 30. Maybe it always does when you’re nearing a milestone.
I have a date this week with someone my age that I’m actually looking forward to. He’s divorced and has a kid. That used to be a hard no for me. But at this point in my life, if I want to date within a certain age range, divorced with kids is just reality. And honestly, I don’t even care about that the same way anymore. Marriage is like a breakup with paperwork, and if he has kids, that means more time for me.
But the truth is, I don’t even know what I want. I don’t know if I want kids. Or marriage. I mean, I wouldn’t mind a diamond. At least that adds some weight to the decision. And if it doesn’t work out, I can always give that back.
Time, though? That’s the part you don’t get back.
And maybe that’s the real tension. Not age. Not men. Not biology. But the pressure to make every choice feel like the right one before time decides for you.
Maybe I don’t need to have it all figured out. Maybe it will come together when it’s supposed to.
This was such a good read because I feel like I'm beginning to dip my toes in similar waters as far as being interested in younger men. It's interesting because in the past I have only felt attracted to around 10 yrs older... which for me was just a recipe for feeling inadequate. For the first time I'm interested in someone younger. 5 years younger. I'm beginning to think less about age and more about being on 'equal footing' as relevant for me. I think it's different for everyone though.
Even though I’m still in my 20s, woman to woman, I can feel what you’re going through. It’s reassuring to know that, no matter the age, we’re all just exploring and figuring it out as we go.