How did our Guest Blogger cope when she found out the man she liked was 19 years younger?

The feeling of utter disappointment was overwhelming. A 19-year age difference is a chasm not a gap. I was a real grown up when he was born. I’d left home, had a proper job and a life. Somewhere in a cardboard box I can probably find my old diary for that year and look up exactly what I was doing on the day he was born. Probably not such a good idea. Some boxes should remain closed and safely stored in the loft.

1974! I was so dismayed I reached for a calculator and carefully deducted 1956 from 1974 just to rub salt in the wound. It would decrease to 18 years in a couple of weeks but that hardly softened the blow.

I didn’t hear from him, which surprised me, and so a few days later I threw caution to the wind and sent a neutral email asking for advice about my garden. There is logic to this – he told me he had a degree in horticulture. He asked for my address and came round that evening where we were simply politely awkward. When he left he looked back at me with a confused, questioning look. I just wanted to be his friend and needed the feeling to be mutual. I sent a text thanking him for his time.

He replied the next day saying he had a girlfriend and was going to Devon for a holiday with said girlfriend and that he liked to keep his personal life separate from work. I was livid and deeply embarrassed. I hadn’t flirted or been suggestive and so I took a very deep breath and calmly replied that I was not a cougar, he was young enough to be my son (I was damned if this was going to be my fault by being too old) and that I thought we had clicked as friends. I found him witty, interesting and charming. I wished him a happy holiday. No smiley face, no kiss. My little happy bubble had well and truly burst.

 

To Be Continued….

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