Dating a man 13 years older
Dating a man 13 years older - jennifer ehle dating
I Googled him the next day, and lo and behold, right there on his college athlete stats page, was his birthdate. I couldn't relax and accept Michael's age for what it was, especially when we were out in public. "I was going to tell you the next time I saw you, I promise. I knew you'd freak if I tacked on five more years, and we were having such a good time. I really like you, Vanessa.""I really like you, too," I said meekly, my anger fading.
When I moved to New York right after college, finding a boyfriend was the last thing on my mind. I knew that if he knew I was 22 the conversation would soon be over, and I was enjoying it, despite myself. Two minutes later, I got a text."My name is Michael…in case you forgot." I had forgotten. "I didn't want to blurt out how old I was at dinner after you went on and on about what a big age difference eight years was. " Michael protested."You were supposed to say your real age, like I did! He was so different from the guys my age I 'd met in the city, eager for the drunk bar make-out but far less eager to have a girlfriend. I delayed taking him out with my friends, because I was worried he wouldn't fit in. We went to a dive bar in the Lower East Side with a bunch of my friends.
I was 22, single and enjoying the fact that bars in the city stayed open until 4 a.m. On our first date, I was telling Michael about my upcoming birthday plans when the truth came out."How old are you again? But I'm actually turning 23." I was really nervous he would freak out, but instead he started to laugh."Oh, wow," he said. My friends couldn't believe how old he was, but they could see how happy I was. I cringed as Michael cracked an inappropriate joke about my girlfriend's low-cut shirt—I think it was his attempt at "college humor." The last straw was when he bought a round of Grey Goose shots for everyone.
Out one night near my apartment, I pressed myself against the bar and tried to get the bartender's attention. He was cute, I observed, broad-shouldered and solidly built."Whiskey is an old man's drink," I said."Oh, really? "You're a young one." I said I hadn't wanted to scare him off by telling him my real age, and he agreed that he probably wouldn't have gotten my number if he had known I was so young. It was obvious to me that he was trying so hard to impress my friends, and it just made him seem even older and more out of touch. I was young, excited to explore the city, constantly drinking too much and staying out until last call.
I felt like every time we went to a fancy restaurant, the maître d' thought I was Michael's daughter.
We would kiss at the table, and I'd catch (or maybe it was my imagination) the waiter's surprised look, and then I felt like he'd pegged me as some kind of gold-digger.
Michael went to the bathroom, and immediately they started in."How old exactly are you?
" asked one of the women."Um, 23," I said."Do you know how old Michael is?None of that stuff happened to me, but I still wince when I remember how I idealized the thought of someone being single-mindedly obsessed with me the way the novel’s narrator is with Lolita.(Um, probably don’t do this, you guys.) It wasn’t like I was stupid. But I didn’t have enough experience or wisdom (as opposed to intelligence) to completely understand what I was getting into.But in spite of all that, I love him more than I ever thought possible. Sometimes I think we're going to get married, have babies and live happily ever after.Other times, I look at younger guys on the subway and think, "What if?I think any man with an ounce of sense would be long gone — and that showed me how much Michael did really care about me.