I dated a woman named Sophie, she was thirty. Im forty-two. At first, I figured age was hardly important. After half a year, I realised Id been wrongthat it mattered more than Id expected. Not in the way I thought, though. In the end, I told her to leave, and it was a real row.
Wed met at the gym. I was on my way to the treadmill, she was on the cross-trainer beside it. She smiled. I smiled back. Afterwards, we ended up chatting by the water cooler.
Hi, do you train here often? she asked.
Yeah, almost every day, I replied.
Sophie was thirty, a marketing consultant for a tech firm. Im forty-two, an engineer at a factory.
Twelve years between us. I thought, so what? Were both adults, both working, both educated. Why should it matter?
I was wrong. The gap was wider than I realised, but not where I expected.
First three monthseasy and enjoyable
The first three months were light and breezy. Wed see each other a couple times a weekcinema, a café, long walks. She was fun, energetic, engaging.
Look, this new films out, I want to see it, shed say.
Brilliant, lets do it, Id answer.
We talked about work, books, our plans. Intimacy was regular and uncomplicated. I honestly thought all was ideal.
Little annoyances started cropping up after three months
We were out at a café, Sophie scrolled through her phone and showed me a TikTok clip.
Look, isnt that hilarious!
A guy was dancing about, pulling faces to some meme tune. It went right over my head.
Yeah, thats funny, I said, politely.
You dont get it, do you? Well, you are ancient, its not for people your age, she laughed.
I grimaced. That ancient bit struck a nerve, but I kept quiet.
She filmed everythingall the time. Our food at restaurants, sunsets on the Thames, us in the car.
Lets make a story! Say something! she insisted as we drove to the countryside.
Sophie, Im driving.
Oh, just say hi!
Why?
For the followers! Go on, dont be such a bore!
I grunted hi at the phone. She laughed.
Youre such a grump! My sweet grump!
She uploaded a clip captioned, My little munchkin at the wheel. Ive always hated that word.
If I forgot to buy milk, mixed up meeting dates, or didnt catch a joke, shed call me silly, ruffle my hair, and say, Youre my silly one.
Im forty-two, a seasoned engineer, and Im being called silly.
Sophie, I dont like it when you call me that, I told her once.
Why? Its affectionate!
It feels belittling.
Oh, come off it! Relax, youre so serious, she laughed.
The turning pointthe birthday party
In May, her friend Emma had a birthday party. Emma was twenty-nine. Fifteen guests in all.
Come meet my friends! Sophie suggested.
I went along.
We arrived to blaring music, tables filled with nibbles and bottles. All youngtwenty-five to thirty-five or so.
This is Stephen, my man! she announced.
I nodded my hellos, then sat with a glass of wine. Listened to them chat about a new Netflix show, some influencer, loads of internet gags. I barely followed any of it. Felt completely out of place.
Emma started a game: Lets play Truth or Dare!
I played along, although I didnt really know the rules. People told stories about their first kiss, did silly dares. Then it was Sophies turn.
Truth or dare? asked Emma.
Dare! Sophie beamed.
Post a video kissing Stephen, and caption it My sugar daddy!
Everyone laughed. Sophie turned to me with her phone.
Go on then, kiss me for the video!
No, I said, drawing back.
Why not?
I just dont want to.
Oh, Stephen, its just a game! Dont be such a party pooper!
Im not comfortable. I dont want a video of us with that caption. Its humiliating.
Silence. Everyone stared.
Stephen, its only a joke! Everyone gets it, she said, turning red.
I dont. Sorry.
I stepped out onto the balcony to clear my head.
The drive home
The drive back was silent. Sophie stared out the window the whole way.
Sophie, we need to talk, I said when I parked.
About what?
About us. Tonight made me realise something. We live in different worlds.
What do you mean?
Your world is social media, videos, followers, whether things amuse your friends. You care about stories, approval, memes.
She was quiet.
My worlds about different things: respect, privacy, a bit of seriousness. I dont care about likesI care how I feel.
But it was just a silly game
Thats the thing. For you, it was, but to me it was degrading. You call me munchkin, silly, film me without asking, make fun of my age. I find it upsetting.
She started to cry.
I didnt mean to hurt you
I know. But you did. We just have different values. For you, its funfor me, it feels disrespectful.
Stephen, maybe youre just too serious?
Maybe. But Im forty-two. I have no desire to be on TikTok, to play daft games, or be called sugar daddynot even as a joke.
She nodded.
I see. Maybe were just not right for each other.
Maybe not.
Why we split, and my thoughts afterwards
We broke up amicably the next day. No big fight.
Thank you for everything. Youre great, were just too different, she texted.
You too. Just from different planets, I replied.
That was four months ago. I still think about it sometimes. The problem wasnt really age as such; it was about being at different points in life.
Sophiethirtywants fun, approval, social media, games. Im forty-two, after calm, respect, privacy. We just spoke different languages.
For her, munchkin was sweet. For me, it was patronising.
For her, stories on Instagram were cute. For me, it invaded my space.
For her, the sugar daddy joke was just thata joke. For me, it felt like an insult.
We simply couldnt understand each other. The gap wasnt just age, it was about priorities and experience.
Was I right to break up with a woman twelve years younger, were we simply mismatched, or was I just too serious? Was she wrong not to respect my boundaries, or was I just too sensitive?
Is twelve years a matter of personalities, not years? Is calling a grown man munchkin and silly affectionate at forty-two, or does it cross a line?
Looking back, Ive learned that if your values dont align, no amount of affection can bridge the gap. Sometimes the most grown-up thing you can do is admit youre better off apart.
