I once thought I'd fallen in love with an adorable British Israeli lawyer who started chatting with me while we waited at a crosswalk in Manhattan.
I felt an immediate spark, and after we exchanged numbers, we planned our first date without ever bringing up our ages.
We continued to date until, eventually, our lifestyles proved drastically different.His career and financial situations were a far cry from mine, and the idea of things getting serious felt rushed and scary to me.He was closer to 40 than I was to 30, and I felt like he’d inevitably want marriage and children much sooner than I would. I guess it was because I'd heard two or three stories of the woman being seven years older, so I'd sort of decided that was the outer limit of age difference acceptability. (And I would hit 31 a month before his next birthday.) Feeling defeated, I sat at the small wooden table in Starbucks, where I was meeting Kevin for the first time since my startling discovery. In case you're wondering, I married that guy eight months later. I don't know why this one year made such a difference to me.Will women feel better about dating younger men as we chip away at the convention that it’s men who have to be the providers, and women the nurturers?