Annie experienced a birthday recently, so for a time our numerical ages are one year closer. For a month or two, 19 years separates us. Nineteen years. I was a sophomore in college when she was born. She was nineteen during the first Gulf War, and I had an eleven-year-old child.
There is no denying our age difference.
Or is there? My sweet Annie supports her family, manages employees, parents her children, pays a mortgage and controls a spouse’s immaturity. She calculates risks, makes decisions, pursues additional education.
These characteristics make her a full-fledged adult in my eyes.
I may be the immature partner. I also support a family, manage employees, parent, pay a mortgage and have an immature spouse. But many would say that I never grew up, based on some behavior and the number of recent broken bones and significant sports injuries!
She has both more and less sexual experience than I. She has had more partners but less varied experiences. I had only two partners before her, but years of experience and countless time thinking, reading and fantasizing about sex.
Physically, she is fresh, young, tender. I am not, although I am pretty fit for my age.
If we are not so different in various measures of age, we have to wonder… Have we named this blog correctly?
I know that Annie will see this issue differently than I. She will write about her perceptions and then we will write something together.
–David
I think age is more about attitude than some number. Plus, depending on the day my Wii either says I’m way older or way younger than I actually am