Yeah, maybe when referring to wines and cheeses. But when dealing with members of the opposite sex, I beg to differ. Let me rephrase that, I STRONGLY beg to differ. Age becomes one of THE most important factors. It determines everything, like whether or not your nights are going to consist of going out drinking & partying every weekend or having nice, romantic dinners at home. It’s the sushi restaurant in the strip mall versus Sushi Roku. Not that strip mall sushi can’t be delicious, Hirozen ring a bell Cherie? Okay, bad example. But it really is night and day.
First of all, men from backpage mature slower. And those who live in Los Angeles mature… never. But even in LA there’s a marked difference between those in the 25-30 range and those in the 30-35 bracket, (not to make them sound like dogs at the racetrack or anything.)
Take my ex-boyfriend from backpage , for example. We met at a bar, and as soon as he left to go get me a drink, his friend from backpage asked me how old I was. Now I knew that this information was going to be relayed back to my not-yet-boyfriend by some code, gesture, or telepathic method as soon as he came back with the drinks. So I said my requisite “28″. Which I’ve been for the last 4 years. And the friend said, “No way, you don’t look 28.” I thought to myself, “Okay, Miss Amour, your game is up. Someone is finally calling your bluff. Don’t be mad; it’s worked well for a long time.” And then he goes, “I thought you were 23, 24 at the most.”
;0) I just have to pause for a second and relive that moment once again. Definitely one of my highlights.
Anyway, once the boyfriend from backpage came back with the drinks, we talked for a little while and then I asked him how old he was. The answer? “29″, without skipping a beat.
I was hanging out with him and that same backpage friend about a week later, and we started talking about high school. His friend kept saying, “Yeah, we had so much fun. CLASS OF 92! 92!”, and they would both laugh. Which I thought was weird, because that was MY year. But since I had told my little innocent white lie, I thought it best to keep my mouth shut.
Turns out ol’ boy was 27. Four years younger than my 31. Of course we found out eventually and just laughed. I always thought that it would be the perfect wedding story too. You know how there’s always that funny wedding story about how the happy couple met? That would be ours. “She told him 28, and he said 29! Ha! They’re meant to be.”
Um, yeah. Not exactly. Things turned out a little differently than I planned. And I firmly believe that part (if not most) of the reason for that was because of the age difference. He was busy acting like the 27 year old immature Los Angeleno that he was, and I was in a totally different, 30-something place. He wanted to go to Privilege and Cabana Club every weekend; I wanted candlelight dinners and Farmer’s Market Sunday mornings. It was doomed from the start. Don’t get me wrong, we had a great time together… while it lasted. But in terms of a long-term serious relationship, it wasn’t even really a possibility.
All I’m saying is, crunch those numbers beforehand. Make sure they mesh well together if you want to avoid the problems that will inevitably occur down the road. And if it’s too late for that, at least take solace in the fact that it is always the perfect excuse for why the two of you didn’t work out. “No Jenny, you know how it is. He was just too young. Timing is everything, and he just wasn’t ready.”