GOING TO THE NINES
I was in a relationship with a younger man for about seven months. We met at Pick n Pay. I was getting things for the house while he was working for a promotional company. At first glance, he looked older. We spoke and sparks flew, and we eventually dated. We got swept up in the whirlwind of new love, but it was in finding out about one another that I realised I was nine years older than him. I’m not going to lie, being a mother of a six-year-old boy, the knowledge of how young he was affected me. For him, not so much. He was used to dating older women. I kept thinking about the connection I had with this ‘kid’, so I tried to work around it.
He made me feel so special, doing things even men my age don’t. He took care where it counted, knowing how to treat me. He tried to keep up appearances, never letting me see him at his weak points, especially if he was struggling financially. I just wanted to help and be there for him, but sometimes he was rude about letting me. His stubborn streak came out and his immaturity eventually showed.
In the end, he opened up my mind about how stereotypical society has made us, thinking we can only find happiness from someone our age or older. We’re all people who develop differently, and trust me, a guy in his 20s can have more sense and maturity than an older man. I tried to judge him not from his age, but from his character, and because of that, I’d definitely date younger again. I can’t let society determine who will to make me happy.