© Canva

This one is for Rebecca, Alex, and Shanz - Thank you for the honesty. Some stories are meant to be questioned, not judged.

It always starts with a sentence that sounds almost innocent. He’s older, but he understands me. And just like that, a story begins. One that people will either romanticize or condemn, but rarely try to understand.

Rebecca wrote to me about her feelings for a man almost 30 years older. Alex described the thrill and danger of flirting with someone who feels like her own version of Mr. Big. And Shanz ( sweet, clear-eyed Shanz) confessed that her late-forties lover makes her feel both cherished and delusional.

Different stories, same thread: the older man.

If love were a math equation, none of this would make sense. Twenty and forty-nine don’t add up to happily ever after. But love isn’t math, it’s chemistry. And chemistry never asked for permission.

The Fantasy of the Older Man

There’s something magnetic about men who’ve already lived a few lives. They carry a calmness, a kind of gravity that younger men often don’t. They’ve made mistakes, learned things, and they have that quiet confidence that comes from not needing to prove themselves anymore. Maybe it’s that. Or maybe it's fantasy. That intoxicating mix of maturity, mystery, and power.

Older men know how to look at you. Really look. Not like the guys your age who check their phones mid-conversation, but like someone who’s actually listening. Someone who’s already played the game and knows exactly which buttons to push and when to stop.

And if we’re being honest, part of us likes that. The attention. The control. The danger.

The Taboo That Keeps Us Hooked

Of course, it’s controversial. People hear twenty and forty-nine and immediately raise an eyebrow. Society loves rules, and age, for whatever reason, has always been one of them. We romanticize experience but condemn attraction. We praise women for being independent but question them when their desires don’t fit the mold. And yet, taboo has always been sexy. It’s what makes the story thrilling. You know it’s complicated, maybe even wrong in some people’s eyes and still, you can’t resist the pull. Because what’s really scandalous here isn’t the age gap. It’s the honesty of desire. The audacity of a young woman saying, I like older men, and I’m not ashamed of it.

That’s what shocks people. Not the numbers, but the nerve.

Power, Perception, and the Myth of Control

The thing about age-gap relationships is that power is always in the room, even if no one mentions it. Who holds it, who gives it away, who pretends not to notice it, that’s the real dance. The older man has experience. He’s seen things, done things, probably dated women who know themselves better than you do. You have youth, energy, curiosity, beauty, maybe even a little recklessness. You can make him feel alive again. It’s not always toxic. Sometimes it's a genuine connection. But pretending there’s no imbalance is naïve. The question isn’t whether the power exists, it always does. The question is whether both people are aware of it, and whether they can still meet each other as equals in spite of it.

Because the moment you start defining yourself through how he sees you : the young one, the exception, the one who makes him forget his age, that’s when you lose the only thing that made you magnetic in the first place: your independence.

The Girl He Used to Know

Alex’s story stays with me, the way she described texting this man she once knew, playing with anonymity, seduction, and risk. There’s something almost cinematic in that. But I couldn’t help thinking (forgive the phrasing), what happens when he finds out who she is? When fantasy meets reality? We live in an age of performance : in dating, in texting, even in love. Sometimes, what we crave isn’t the person, but the version of ourselves we get to be when we talk to them. The confident one. The daring one. The version of us who sends a picture and doesn’t flinch. And maybe that’s why these age-gap dynamics are so intoxicating… Because they allow us to step into another role. To experiment with power, femininity, maturity.

But eventually, every performance ends. And when it does, the question remains: do they love you, or the fantasy you created?

The Future Question

Then comes the practical part — the part we all try to ignore when we’re lost in the thrill. Can this work? Can a twenty-year-old and a forty-nine-year-old really build a life together? Sometimes yes. Often no.

Because love may not be math, but time eventually counts. You might want to start a family just as he’s thinking about retirement. You might want to travel, grow, make mistakes and he’s already made them. Young women date older men not because they’re searching for forever, but because they’re searching for intensity. For understanding. For a love that feels more defined than the chaos of modern dating. And if it ends, as many do, that doesn’t make it meaningless. It just means it served its purpose. Some loves are meant to last. Others are meant to teach.

Age-gap relationships will always be controversial because they challenge the story we’ve been told about love : that it should look symmetrical, socially acceptable, easy to explain. But love, or something like it, has never followed the rules. So if you find yourself drawn to someone older, don’t rush to label it wrong. Ask yourself what you’re really looking for protection, excitement, guidance, validation. None of those are shameful; they’re human.

As for me, I only know this: attraction is rarely logical, and desire has never asked for society’s approval. So maybe we can stop pretending it’s a crime to crave something, or someone, that makes us feel alive. Because sometimes, the most dangerous kind of love is also the most revealing.

Want to speak about something precisely?

Just tell me, I'll (or we ?) write about it...

You might want to read...