Age has never been that big of a deal to me (I have a lot of close friends who are a few years younger than me as well), but apparently it’s a really big deal to everyone else. There will be a moment where you realize something like he was in middle school when you were in high school. You find out just how many people think that making fun of your age difference is hilarious.Dating a younger guy isn’t weird because he’s younger – it’s weird because of the way society makes you feel about it. There’s nothing you can do but just look at them and wonder how their thought process works. The 10 worst moments in any relationship Follow Gurl, pretty please!If a lot of your guy’s friends are like him—young and single—going out to bars until 4 a.m.
His name was Patrick, but everyone referred to him as “the 17-year-old.” That was how his number was saved in my phone. Patrick was in the corner, tall and spidery with olive skin.
The more I sensed a boy’s awe, the longer I lingered, listening to stories about his childhood, transforming myself into the perfect female fantasy for him to idealize forever. He didn’t have a fake ID or any money, but he was still cute. It was a small get together with an amateur DJ and guests sprawled on couches. We spent hours on the phone, talking about his unrequited love for me. “I don’t know what you’ve told him or what you made him think, but Patrick needs to come home! The next morning, I knew I would send him home to his mother. And still, it was still hard not to be seduced by the wondrous way the 17-year-old looked at me.
At first, we stuck together, holding hands and making out in the kitchen. I found myself sucked into conversation with my friends. As years passed, Bobby went from an overweight goth in eyeliner to a buff 18-year-old with a sleeve tattoo. I kissed back and he flung his body into some cabinets. Rachel Rabbit White is a journalist and blogger who lives in New York City and writes about sex and gender.
If I thought about it, I had been dating younger guys since the beginning. Everyone else had boyfriends as early as fourth grade, but not me. Finally, in eighth grade, I had the brilliant idea to ask a seventh grade boy to the dance. His senior year, Bobby talked me into going to prom with him. I remember the buzz I got from Bobby feeling so cool for bringing me as his date — completely unaware that I should feel for the very same reason. “I hate you,” he said, throwing his fists into my chest. She hates the brag-y part of bios, but feels equally unsure about the quirky part where she tells you she loves lip-syncing alone in her apartment and avocado and sea salt on toast. Editor’s Note: The author does not at any point write that she, as a legal adult, had sexual intercourse with anyone underage.
I realized, still talking to my friends, that I had totally abandoned Patrick. He was holding a bottle of vodka, taking long swigs.