Three years ago, Mike and I met at a coworker's engagement party. I knew that the guests at the party were going to be younger than me; I work as an occupational therapist at a hospital and most of the coworkers I'm closest with are the ones in their 20s and early 30s. I've always tended to get along better with people a decade or so younger than me—peg it to my being single with no kids as well as a why not attitude that led me to spend my own 20s and 30s bouncing from guy to state to job.

At the party, I flirted with the handsome man making a rum and coke in the kitchen, asking if he could whip one up for me, too. He obliged, and as we clinked glasses, I guessed he was in his early 30s. It wasn't until the next day that my friend revealed he was only 25.

Still, when Mike and I went out for drinks, I barely thought about our age gap until our server asked for our IDs. Mike reached across the table to examine mine.

"You were born in 1966? My mom was born in 1960. That's so weird."

Weird. The word rattled around in my head, even after he changed the subject to his upcoming marathon training. I couldn't focus on our conversation. The banter that had come so easily seemed stilted in the bar. I could have been his babysitter. I could be his mom, I thought.

Things got weirder. A week later, he invited me to join him and his friends for a hike, followed by a party. I said yes, but as soon as I got to the meet-up spot, I wanted to drive away. Everyone looked and seemed so young. It wasn't what they were wearing—I was wearing an athletic tank top and hiking pants, same as the other women—but they all seemed so carefree. I didn't know them personally, but I was pretty sure none of them had been divorced—which I had by time I was their age. I felt like the two additional decades of hard-won life experience created a wall between me and the group—and between Mike and me. I felt like a spy. Yes, I'd heard of Drake and Snapchat, but it wasn't my pop culture.

For the next six months, Mike and I were just friends. I made sure to regularly ask about whom he was dating, because I didn't want him to think I was interested. He would ask me to one-on-one dinners and drinks, and I'd suggest casual after-work beers instead. I was pretty sure I was going to spend the rest of my life alone, and I'd made my peace with that. I'd gone on enough dates that didn't lead anywhere—often with much more age-appropriate matches than Mike­—and I just didn't see the point in pretending we were something we weren't. To me, it was much easier to make everything strictly between friends.

Things changed one night over beers at a favorite local bar when I finally said what I was afraid of: I was worried I'd screwed up my life, and that it was too late to change it.

Mike's eyes widened—and then he started revealing some deep stuff about himself, too. He told me about how his best friend had died in a drowning accident in college, and how much that tragedy still affected him, six years later. It was as if by getting to know me on my terms and proving he wanted me in his life as a friend, I'd finally felt comfortable enough to open up in a way I didn't with men I met in typical dating situations.

A few more conversations like that and Mike and I became a couple. Or at least other people assumed we were a couple. It took almost six months before I got used to calling him my boyfriend, even as I was surprised by how little people cared. Sure, my friends made a lot of cougar jokes. I occasionally get a side-eye from a bartender when we're both asked for ID. But in general, people don't dwell on our age difference. Two years later, Mike and I are definitely a couple—we live together and we're deeply in love. Even his mother approves of us, saying that Mike has always been one to follow his heart. And my parents are supportive as well. My dad has no idea how old Mike is, and while my mom knows he's younger, she's never asked for details. But they've seen how skittish I am about romance, so I think they're just happy that I'm happy.

That doesn't mean problems don't crop up. Mike and I are facing different realities. Although he says having children isn't important to him and that he'd still feel fulfilled without kids, I don't believe him.

That's actually one of our biggest fights—and where the age-difference thing comes out in full force. When I tell him Mike he can't knowif he wants children, he thinks I'm being condescending and close-minded. Maybe I am. But I went back and forth on the kids thing somany times in my 30s that I don't want him to shut a door he may want to open in the future.

We've discussed marriage, but always in the abstract—like when we went to one of his friend's weddings, we imagined what our ceremony would look like. We talk in terms of a permanent "we"—weshould buy a house, we want to live by the ocean at some point in our lives. That said, while I know our love is real, because of the age difference and kids question, we're both skittish about talking about the future in definite terms. I don't know if we'll be together in five years. But I am also finally okay with not knowing—I know it's enough for today that he and I love each other. Mike showed me that.

Although it's cliché, he loves like he can't get hurt, and seeing that has taught me a lesson I needed to learn. I got married in my early 20s and divorced a few years later. My experience, plus being friends with so many divorced women, has made me skeptical about love. I used to think of it as this be-all, end-all—you either had the happily-ever-after or it would never work out. But being in an in-between state with Mike—I very much love him, yet understand that neither of us knows our ending—has made it increasingly clear that love isn't that simple. It's about appreciating the moment, not taking a cozy night in for granted, and not letting the time we do have pass us by.

He's always the one to suggest heading out to the mountains for an all-weekend hike. We adopted a dog together, which was a really big deal for me. Whenever I thought about getting a pet, I'd always think, What if I moved? What if I couldn't take care of it? What if, what if, what if? Mike helped me realize that none of those questions mattered—yes, it was good to know we could take care of her and had some stability, but that we'd always figure out a way to make things work.

In general, he's good at making things workin a way that always surprises me. He wants to try new recipes, fix the backsplash in the kitchen, and invite friends over to make cocktails from the contents of the liquor cabinet. I don't want to make it sound like he's an overgrown frat boy—he's not—but he doessee the fun in life, whereas I tend to get bogged down in details.

And the sex is amazing. I'm way more comfortable with my body than I was when I was younger. If you think about it, both of us are in our sexual primes, so it's actually an excellent match. Mike's willing to experiment, and I'm willing to really let go—he loves seeing me let loose, and I love showing him that side of myself.

Bottom line: Mike and I are a great fit, because, it turns out, love comes in surprising packages and doesn't follow some one-size-fits-all path. Mostly, loving Mike has made me fall more deeply in love with my own life.

Recently, Mike and I went to dinner at my friend Karen's house. She and her husband have been married for 23 years, and they have a great relationship. While we there, Mike suggested that Karen's husband bring out his guitar, and we all sat around the table singing songs. It sounds hokey, but it was reminiscent of the low-key way we used to hang out in our 20s. We'd since forgotten that sometimes you have to stop thinking about past regrets or things you should do and just enjoy the music—even if it's just for an evening. It's like that in a relationship too.

*Name has been changed.

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Younger Men Are Generally More Up for Adventure

If you're looking for a bit more adventure and for someone who has the potential to rock your world in new ways, then dating a younger man is for you. Not only is a younger guy more likely to be in the know about the latest and hot happenings in your area, but the activities you engage in together as a couple will likely skew younger and more adventurous than what you're used to.

For example, while you might be prone to coffee dates, meeting up for a cocktail, or going to a book reading, his idea of a great date could include dirt-biking, rock climbing, or even skydiving. If you're looking to pump up the adventure levels in your dating life, then seeking out a younger man will work to your advantage. 

The heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes that means dating someone who is, ahem, a younger man. (Of legal age—of course—let’s get that established and out of the way.) If I’ve learned anything from OTP Priyanka Chopra Jonas and Nick Jonas, and Kate Beckinsale’s fling with Pete Davidson, it’s that age doesn’t have to be a deal breaker or a red flag. It’s 2019, after all.

Sure, age-gap relationships are becoming more of a thing, but there are always those people who will do double takes at dinner or family members who say nothing but raise their eyebrows when they hear about your new boo.

“People gave us a lot of shit about that [the age gap] and still do,” Chopra Jonas told InStyle about her relationship with Nick. “I find it really amazing when you flip it and the guy is older, no one cares and actually people like it.” Preach.

At the end of the day, who you choose to date—and why—is your decision. And let’s be real, it’s tricky enough to find someone who you want to spend time with.

“The dating pool can seem full or empty, depending on how you look at it,” says Tammy Nelson, PhD, a certified sex and couples therapist and author of The New Monogamy. “Expanding it to include those who are younger can widen the possibilities of potential partners.” You know a woman needs her options.

Clueless when it comes to modern dating? Everyone is—but you don't have to be...

So if you’re eyeing a guy or gal who graduated college years after you, here’s what to know before going on that first (or second! or third!) date:

1. You need clarity on what you’re looking for.

First order of business: What do you want from this relationship?

If you just want to date around, hook up and have fun, that’s great. If you want to settle down and have kids with your next partner, that’s great, too. Just get that straight before jumping into the youthful (or any, really) dating pool.

“When it comes to dating someone younger, you want to be thinking about whether your future goals align,” says Amanda Berry, LMFT, a psychotherapist in Chicago.

This also means having clarity on what you need from a relationship. Maybe you need to open up emotionally, a partner you vibe with sexually, or maybe you want a good travel buddy (or all of the above).

Regardless, don't be afraid to be honest about it—the only person you'd be hurting by covering that ish up is you.

2. They might not be as emotionally mature as you.

To put it nicely, some people, guys especially, have a lot of kinks to work out in the maturity arena. If you’re thinking about taking things with a younger man beyond a casual fling, get an early gauge on whether he can take accountability for his actions.

If their a little lacking in relationship history, no worries...but keep in mind that they may not be as adept at communicating their feelings or working through issues in a truly adult way.

That said, it’s okay if the younger person, understandably, has room to grow (don’t we all), but Paulette Sherman, PhD, psychologist and author of Dating from the Inside Out, says to also avoid creating an uneven power dynamic, where you’re the one always calling the shots.

“It's important that you do not feel like you are becoming your partner’s parent or therapist, because that isn’t sexy,” she says. I mean...noted.

3. You might be in different life stages.

Duh—you were born in way different years, or in some cases, decades. But expect to feel a new dynamic with your young date compared with the one you might experience with whom you usually go for.

To get a better grasp on how mismatched you might be in this aspect, think about what the vibe would be like hanging out with his friend group. Does the idea make you cringe—because it'd feel like sophomore year of college? Remember that.

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While age alone doesn’t tell you how far along a person is in life, chances are you have way different experiences and dating history.

“Is that going to create a power differential, if she’s more successful and more settled in her career?” says Jacqueline Schatz, a psychotherapist and dating and relationship expert. Answer: It could.

If you're interested in a long-term relationship and not just fun sex (no shame if you aren't!), it’s not a bad idea to chat about where you’re both at in life and how you’ll fit into each other’s. Ask them where they see themselves in the next two years—versus the five or 10 you might ask an older prospect.

4. Everyone has baggage—even the young heartthrob.

Since things that come up intensely in relationships stem from our childhood, the younger person you want to date isn’t off the hook when it comes to baggage, Schatz says. Sure, you might be a hot divorcee with ex-husband beef, but the younger person has sh*t of their own, too.

One difference though, she says, is that “the older person might have had more time to work through some of the things that were hard for them.” Oh yeah, this is a good time to plug something that should be a universal truth: Whatever your age, do yourself a favor and go to therapy.

5. Commitment might mean different things to you two.

Ah, the “C” word. Break out in hives yet? How you define commitment might be how a younger mate sees a fling. Or vice versa.

“You may be at different places when it comes to the stages of dating,” says Berry. You might just want to have fun and date around, but Young, Hot Eligible Bachelor or Bachelorette might want to start settling down. Or you could be the one who is ready for rings and babies while they're...not.

The important part, she says, is to find where you guys align, and put a definition to it. They may not know what they want for their future yet, but if you can agree on a present, that's half the battle.

6. You don’t have to be the same, but you need to have things in common.

“Sex can’t be your only hobby,” says Nelson. (Okay, fiiine.)

More specifically: “I think the larger the age gap, the harder it is to have things in common,” Schatz says. “Even simple things like references to pop culture are going to be different.” Ever been around your or a friend's younger sister and been very confused? Yep, that.

Granted, this isn’t the end of the world. People bring different things to the relationship (positive aspects only, please—LOL), but you do want to be able to relate to your younger beau. Otherwise, it's going to be very hard to ever see them as an equal.

The main thing to consider is whether they can accept and support the core things that are important to you in a relationship, Sherman says. The other stuff—those moments you preface with “I’m really going to show my age here”—can get sorted later over a bottle of wine.

7. You should ask yourself how you feel when you’re with this person.

If you struggle with confidence, dating someone younger could bring up feelings of insecurity, notes Schatz. You want to feel empowered in the dating game, so ask yourself if you feel good when you’re with the young buck and genuinely excited to spend more time with them.

Dating someone younger can be rejuvenating and ignite an exciting spark that’s been bogged down by past drama. And you’re probably so over that. Be open and flexible (literally and emotionally) to new experiences: Think cramming into a tiny music venue one night and exploring a new pocket of the city the next.

If the connection is right, age won’t define your relationship. It will become just another number in the numbers game that is this crazy world of modern dating.

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by Dara Poznar

Editor’s Note: We’ve been studying relationships for the last four decades, but we still have so much to learn. Through the individual stories and experiences shared in Real Relationships, we aim to paint a more realistic picture of love in the world today. The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this article belong solely to the author, and are not necessarily based on research conducted by The Gottman Institute.

I had given up on love. At 36, my decades-long dream of finding my person and having a family was replaced by a new dream of living a full and happy life as a single woman. I imagined traveling the world, hosting dinner parties for other singles, enjoying the unconditional love of shelter rescues, and pursuing my lifelong dream of writing. Behind me would be the endless disappointments, unmet needs, and invisible feeling that characterized my past relationships. True love, as it seemed, wasn’t going to find me. I surrendered and moved on. 

Then one day, I found myself craving a sandwich. I stopped at a deli I liked on my way home from work. He made my veggie on wheat, hold the banana peppers. “Are you a vegetarian?” he asked. I told him I was. He told me about an interesting documentary he’d recently watched on campus about the health benefits of eating plant-based. I admired his tattoos and noticed his sexy voice. Surmising that he was 25 or 26, I considered it a shame that he was too young for me. I was 36. Up until then, I would have thought 35 was too young for me. 

A few days later I got another hankering for a veggie sandwich, along with another glimpse of the handsome tattooed sandwich-maker. I was having a good hair day and I felt like flirting. That day I found out his name: Austin. For the next two weeks, I was eating veggie sandwiches like it was my job. Each time I saw him, the nervous energy grew. We were two fumbling idiots interacting with one another. His nervousness fed my nervousness. I could feel my face imitating a tomato whenever he looked at me. My heartbeat sped up. There was an obvious mutual attraction and it was a lot of fun. During that time he had Googled me, read my blog, and found me on social media. He wrote me a message to compliment my writing. 

One day he was ringing up my order and asked me when he’d get to see me again. Taken by surprise, I said I was in there all the time and he’d see me in a couple of days. “You know what I mean,” he said, “not here.” I told him to message me. He did so two days later and I gave him my phone number. He called the following day while I was driving down Charlotte Street. I appreciated his approach—showing clear interest but not being overly eager. I‘d prepared to let him down easy. “I’m freshly out of a relationship,” I told him. “I’m not ready to jump into something new. Besides, I’m certain you are too young for me.” 

“Souls don’t have an age,” he said. 

“Ok, fine. How old is your current human incarnation?” I asked, teasingly. He laughed.

“I’m 21,” he said. I nearly drove off the road.

“Like I said,” I continued, “you’re too young and I’m not looking to date right now anyway.” 

“Ok, how about we be friends then? I just want to know you.” 

I was a bit reluctant but made plans to have a drink with him “just as friends” the following Sunday afternoon. We met at a restaurant called The King James. The conversation was seamless. He had such depth to him and a beautiful openness. After 20 minutes we had our first kiss and I knew I was in trouble. An hour later, I was in love. 

I didn’t believe it could last. Yet, there was just something so alluring and captivating about him that I could not resist. The connection between us was so immense that I decided it’d be worth riding it out until it crashed and burned, which I was sure it would, and soon. And when it did, I’d collapse into a heap of ashes then put myself back together and I’d have no regrets. To feel this adored, to have this passion raging inside of me, to be this engulfed in pure ecstasy, even for a week or two, was worth having my heart shattered into millions of pieces. I loved who I was when I was with him—vulnerable, playful, generous, and care-free. I gave it two months tops.

Four years later, he is lying here beside me watching a documentary on his iPhone as I type this. We have plans to be married in 2020, a year from now. But before you begin to imagine that it’s been an ongoing state of bliss all this time, allow me to set things straight: this has been the most painful and challenging relationship of my life. 

For several months we were obscenely obsessed with one another, spending long periods of time staring into each other’s eyes and expressing, with a great deal of emotion, how lucky we both felt to have found one another. “Who are you?” I’d ask him. “Where did you come from?” he’d ask me. We were mesmerized by and enamored with each other. It truly was a full-blown addiction. We were “that” couple—the one you love to hate. 

Even so, I spent the first two years waiting for it all to fall apart. I was afraid to be all-in, daily scanning for signs that it was bound to fail. I believe it was Thoreau who said, “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” Every time I saw in him a quality that drew me in, I searched for two that repelled me, and of course, I found them. Yes, he’s deep and heart-centered, but he takes too many naps and plays video games. Sure he’s willing to learn and grow in relationship, but he is forgetful and overly-sensitive. He’s wonderfully observant and tuned-in, but he is moody and doesn’t save any money. And on and on. 

This behavior almost became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I risked losing it all and never really knowing what might have been. I came dangerously close to that. I was ruled by fear and woundedness rather than love and wholeness. I hadn’t yet learned how to love, only to feel love. And I hadn’t yet healed the wounds that produced maladaptive patterns in me, caused me to deeply hurt the person I love, and resist and push away the thing I wanted more than anything in the world—a raw and uninhibited love, a safe and trusting union, a beautiful and unbreakable bond—with him. 

Realizing how much I wanted a life with him terrified me. It felt cruel that it was possible for me to want this man, THIS man, 16 years my junior and who I believed was sure to abandon and hurt me. And so I tried to destroy my desire by collecting any flaw, error, and inconsistency I could find and hurling them at him one by one. The deeper I fell, the more fearful I became, and the more I looked for imperfections to point out and criticize. I thought I might stop loving him if I realized just how deeply flawed and immature he was. Instead, I had given him good reason to leave me, and I was more fearful than ever that he would. 

Before long, we were caught up in a destructive and painful pattern. We would send sweet texts during the day, call to check in, “Hi baby, how is your day going? I miss you so much. Can’t wait to see you. What can I do for you? I’m so grateful for you.” Then we’d be up all night fighting—“You only care about yourself! Nothing is good enough for you! You don’t listen to me! Leave me alone! I can’t do this anymore!” 

In the morning he’d reach out from his side of the bed and gently touch my back. I’d turn around and we’d hug and apologize profusely to each other. We’d talk about how awful it is to fight like that and how we’re done doing it and we’re just gonna love each other and be kind and gentle. “I love you, you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and I’ll love you forever. I hate you, you’re my worst nightmare and I’m gone.” That became the bipolar tone of our relationship that tortured us both for over 2 years. 

My main fear has been “can I really trust him or will he abandon me?” His has been “can I really trust her or will she keep doubting me and us?” From day one, he has believed that we are soulmates and that we are destined to find our way and be together. He claims he knew I was “the one” immediately. I came into the relationship somewhat more skeptical about ideas such as fate and destiny. Whatever differences between us have been revealed, he has been accepting. The only thing he’s ever criticized about me is the way I’ve judged and criticized him. 

This is the first relationship I’ve ever been in that has forced me to heal myself and become more conscious. He is young, but also very solid. He knows who he is, what he needs, and what he wants. He is secure and maintains healthy boundaries. He has immense faith. He is romantic and melancholic, stubborn and emotional, artistic and wild. When he’s carrying any, he always gives cash to the homeless people he passes on the street. Sometimes he prays with them. The biggest surprise I’ve encountered is how much I have had to mature and grow in order to create something lasting with him. I can’t become complacent with him. I can’t take him for granted. He won’t have it. 

Last year I went into counseling to address my unhealed pain and to learn how to love. Since doing so I have made the courageous choice to choose him and this relationship fully. I have learned to intentionally lift up and admire what makes him unlike anyone I have ever known and absolutely irresistible, and to accept him for everything that he is, including much younger. I’ve matured emotionally and psychologically. This process for me has been one of growing up enough to be able to surrender to what is true for me: I’m crazy in love with a much younger man and I’m scared to death. I’m so lucky to get to love and be loved like this, and I need to honor and cherish this man and what we share. 

The fear that the age gap will eventually catch up to us never leaves me. Neither does the untamed love I feel for him. I get excited when he calls. I look forward to our time together. We dance together, goof around and laugh hysterically, cry together during sad scenes in movies, and baby talk to our two dogs, with whom we are both grossly obsessed. Being with him brings me an unrelenting joy on a daily basis. We fight about the typical things: laundry, cleaning, money, and the rest of it. We have a normal relationship in most ways. He’s young, but home most nights, not out at the bars night after night like many of his peers. He tells me that he’s not like most people his age. 

There is some humor that comes with the age gap, like when I had to explain to him who The Cranberries were, or when I don’t understand some of the slang people his age use, which he finds adorable. He really likes it when I say something is “dope.” We allow ourselves to be influenced by each other. I think this really helps. We hang out with one another’s friends and listen to each other’s favorite music. I feel young and alive with him. He is very proud of being with an older woman.

Loving and planning a future with a much younger man is, for me, the happiest and most brutal thing I have ever experienced, as well as the most transformative. What I’ve always wanted is right here, and now I have so much to lose. We read together, listen to podcasts, and watch videos about how to build a healthy relationship. We have deep conversations about life, spirituality, and love. We both enjoy a wide range of music from various decades. He wants to take dance and cooking classes together. We praise each other. We make each other better. He also plays video games, likes to get high, listens to gangster rap, and had never done his own laundry or scrubbed a single toilet before we moved in together. 

He reads Jesus while I read Jung. I drink coffee and he drinks sweet tea. I binge watch Gossip Girl and he binges dinosaur documentaries. 

It’s all quite terrifying and fantastically elating. 

There have been numerous times when I would wake up at 2 or 3 a.m. and been overcome with the grief of when it would be over. I would look over at him and try with all my might to just fully appreciate that at that moment he was right there. He was with me. We were together. Right then I had the greatest love I could have ever hoped to know. This gangster-rap-loving, video-game-playing, dinosaur-obsessed man makes me giddy as hell and I want him with me forever.

I don’t know what the future holds for us or where we’ll end up. I do know our love is real. It’s been tested. Things got really, really bad, and we’re both still here. And I know being with him is what I want. The love between us lives on and has even become stronger. We talk about how perplexing it is that our feelings for each other just seem to continue to grow and grow, unhindered by familiarity, immense hardship, or fear. We can’t explain it, but we’re so grateful for it. 

He’s 25 now, and I’m 41. While I no longer fear people are going to look at us funny when they realize we are a couple, I still worry that one day, as we age, as I grow older, age won’t just be a number but a reason the relationship can no longer work. I’ll realize it was too much to hope to spend the rest of my life with him. Or maybe I’ll learn that love really does conquer all, even a 16-year age gap relationship in which the woman is the older partner. 

“Love is trembling happiness,” wrote Kahlil Gibran. Those words resonate with me so deeply that they are now permanently inked on my back. 

Relationships are about giving up control and surrendering, which is terrifying. And while doing that isn’t a guarantee it’ll work out, it gives us our best chance. No matter what, I’ll have no regrets. I’m all in ‘til the end.

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Through the stories and experiences shared in Real Relationships, we aim to understand and paint a more realistic, inclusive picture of relationships in the world today.

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At the ripe old age of twenty-six, my delicious man is four years younger than me, making him a slightly cringe-worthy twenty-two. While this age gap is not shocking, it sounded a lot worse four years ago when I was twenty-two and he was… um… eighteen… anyways…

The point is, age honestly doesn’t matter in a relationship, but this doesn’t mean that there won’t be hurdles caused by the fact that your boyfriend can’t remember The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Here are a few things to keep in mind when you’re dating a younger man

(I must preface this manifesto with a disclaimer that not all behaviors outlined below have been displayed by my man. Only some…)

Get over the fact that you graduated from high school before he even started

You made your choice. Embrace it. Don’t cop crap for it and don’t give it anymore brain space than it deserves. You are either okay with it, or you aren’t. End of story. It’s awesome.

It is fabulous being the arm candy of a younger man. It’s sexy, it’s taboo and elevates both parties to legend status. Make the most of it.

Be understanding

About his need to sleep for twelve hours a day, his ability to survive on nothing but toast and the desire to spend $500 on an X-box despite the fact that he has only one functioning coffee cup in the whole house. He’ll grow out of it. I promise.

Realize that he might need a little more time

If you date a younger man you must understand what you have signed on for. All activities that fall under the banner of ‘commitment’ will probably flip him out. When I say “understand this “I mean “understand this.” Just cast your mind back to when you were that age and ask yourself how you would react to the situation. Be honest and cut him some slack.

Also, remember that age is not an excuse

You need to be realistic. Give him the space to be a young man but if it’s been two or three years and he is still choking on his tongue whenever you talk about moving in together then you need to do some serious thinking.

Have you ever dated someone significantly younger than you? I dated a 21-year-old when I was 27!

P.S. If you’re dating or in a relationship and you haven’t read this book yet, I CANNOT RECOMMEND IT HIGHLY ENOUGH.

photo credit: Sebastian Pichler and Adriana Velásquez // cc