Garfield (fake name) is nearly a decade younger than I. When he asked me out after I had known him a couple of months, I tried to turn him down, suggesting that he needed to date a younger woman; but my heart wasn’t really into my suggestion because, truth to tell, I was already smitten. When he told me I had to decide right then and there because he would never ask me again, I gave a one-word reply, “Yes.”
For me, that “yes” was the biggest commitment of my life. From my new boyfriend, I learned the difference between age and maturity. I had never dated anyone his age before and I had never dated a man who was as mature as he was, even when I had dated much older men. I had been married before and it had turned out badly. I couldn’t believe the consideration this young man exhibited.
I also couldn’t believe I could hang on to him, but I made up my mind to enjoy whatever time I had and to be true and faithful to him whether the joy in my life lasted only a few weeks or a lifetime. When he asked me to marry him, I was reluctant to do so. I was afraid that once we were married, he would begin to treat me as my husband had; but when he laid that old ultimatum on me, saying “Marry me or I’m out of here,” I again said, “Yes.”
Over thirty years later, he is the man I respect most in all the world. He stayed exactly the same, unless you count getting better; and the difference in our ages was never relevant to our relationship. What was relevant was that my younger husband turned out to be a “top of the line” model.
Name withheld by request.