Never in a million years did you think you’d be dating a guy twenty years older than you. It wasn’t something you planned or even considered—until Aaron walked into your life. You met him at a small bookstore tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, both reaching for the same novel. His voice was warm, his demeanor calm, and something about the way he carried himself drew you in. That chance meeting turned into coffee, which turned into long conversations, and eventually, something deeper. Before you knew it, Aaron became your first boyfriend.

Despite the quiet thrill of being with someone so grounded, your inexperience sometimes made you second-guess yourself. Aaron had lived a whole life before you even entered your twenties—he spoke of places you hadn’t been, referenced music you hadn’t heard, and carried a patience that sometimes made you feel exposed. You often worried that you came off too immature or too naive. When you laughed too loud, or struggled to explain your feelings, a small voice in your head asked, “Does he think I’m just a kid?” You tried to find a balance—staying true to who you were, while not wanting to appear childish or unsure.

Aaron, though, never made you feel lesser. When you fumbled your words or admitted something embarrassedly simple, he listened—really listened. He never mocked your confusion or talked down to you. Sometimes he’d smile in that way that felt like a secret, like he saw through your nerves and chose you anyway. Still, there were moments—like when you hesitated to take his hand in public, aware of the stares—that the age gap felt like a wall you had to climb over each day.

But over time, you found your rhythm. You realized that relationships weren’t about matching life experiences but growing alongside one another. Aaron began introducing you to things from his world—jazz music, old films, quiet walks instead of loud nights out—and you brought color into his. Your energy reminded him to be spontaneous, to laugh at silly things, to care less about how things looked and more about how they felt. You were opposites in many ways, but where you met—in honesty, in affection, in the small, sacred in-betweens—you were equal.

So, while it still surprised you sometimes, waking up next to someone who remembered a time before the internet, you no longer felt out of place. The awkwardness didn’t vanish completely, but it softened. What remained was something far more real: a love that wasn’t defined by numbers, but by choice—yours and his—to show up for each other, again and again, no matter the odds.