Hi...I guess I just want to write here my own personal experience with this kind of relationship as a testament to the fact that regardless of the obstacles that stand in the way, *anything* is possible if two people are genuinely meant for each other.
At first glance, my partner and I had everything going against us: there was an 11 and a half year age difference (I turn 19 in a month; he's 30), 500 miles between us (he lived in north Carolina, I lived outside Philadelphia), and of course, we hadn't even exchanged photos until six months after we met, and only talked on the phone for the first time after nine months, but after a lot of hard work and some really passionate dedication, we have now the sort of loving, generous, and supportive romance that most people only dream about.
A little over a year ago, last October; I met a person on AOL who would become my future boyfriend - and quite possibly my soulmate. We ran into each other by sheer chance in a philosophy chat room, where he jokingly expressed admiration at the fact that a teenager (I was 17 at the time) could spell the world "pretentious." we established a friendly rapport almost immediately and got into various discussions on existentialism and feminism, and we quickly gained respect for each other, because of our obvious age difference, there were no romantic overtones to our conversations, we just enjoyed each other's company, and spent many nights talking about art, music, philosophy, literature, fashion, emotions, past experiences...whatever was on our minds.
Our connection was completely honest and open, and although he told me for the first time that December (only two months after we met) that he loved me, he reassured me that he meant it in only the best possible way (i.e. without any romantic intentions), and didn't intend to make me uncomfortable - which he didn't in the least. On the contrary, I felt nothing but ease and comfort whenever I wrote to him in IMs, and felt gratitude for the warmth, guidance, and unconditional support he offered me. Had it been any other person online I would have felt some suspicion, but I had no misgivings whatsoever. I also, however, expected no sort of romance to come of our friendship.
Then in February, he admitted to me - gently, cautiously, and with more reassurance - that he was developing romantic feelings for me, and for some reason, I wasn't surprised. I was still as comfortable as ever with his feelings and mine, although I didn't reciprocate in any way. Our relationship had always been the lover and the beloved, in a way, and I was perfectly happy with that arrangement...my self-esteem, which had previously been close to zero, was now becoming more and more stable, and I began doing much better in my last year of high school now that I had a genuine friend, who offered genuine kindness, to go home to at the end of the day. Ironically, the reason I had gone into that philosophy chat room back in October was to discuss the difficulty of my previous relationship, which was just ending at the time. He made it possible to come to grips with a lot of the painful aspects of my breakup - my old boyfriend had been extremely cold and distant, and it was extraordinarily difficult for me to trust anyone.
But he made it clear again and again that he had no expectations for me to return his romantic sentiments, and so I never felt under any pressure to do so. But although on the surface I kept things on a platonic level, by spring break it was becoming obvious that I was developing feelings as well. When I went away for 12 days in early March I missed him fiercely, and even made a mix tape of songs which reminded me of him. One night, as I lay in a hammock watching the night sky, I had on my headphones and was listening to ash's "a life less ordinary" - a song which I had associated with him for a long time - when I saw a shooting star. I thought to myself, half-jokingly, "wouldn't it be funny if that was a sign..." yet for some reason I remained in denial of my feelings, and still kept a fair bit of distance.
That is, until around May. By that time, it had become impossible to hold back all of my budding romantic sentiments. I could never bring myself to type the words "I love you," although it was quite evident that he was head-over-heels in love with me. But we had sort of an unspoken awareness of the fact that something...what, we didn't know...was developing between us. In those late spring months we were more careful than ever to remain conscious of the age difference separating us, and the issues that could potentially cause problems for us.
We were completely honest about our feelings and concealed nothing from each other. Though it was difficult and quite painful for me to try and trust another person after my experiences with my previous boyfriend, he remained effortlessly patient with me all through my emotional ups and downs, my attempts to come to terms with my feelings and fears. He offered me insights into my own personality and my own emotions and led me to a new understanding of myself as a person truly capable of loving another person and I was certain by this time that I loved him. I just couldn't tell him...yet.
Sometime in late May, he called me on the phone - something we had been planning to do for at least three months. We were both nervous...him a little more than me, I think...but our conversation was warm and comfortable (and I *adored* his voice). We spoke again for several nights afterwards, the topics of conversation always on the safe side (movies, books, etc.) until one night we got down to those more serious, romantic issues which we had discussed again and again in writing.
Because I was still quite inexperienced with relationships...and quite emotionally fragile on top of that (I have a history of clinical depression), hearing another person say that they loved me was like being hit with a ton of bricks. But finally, after screwing up every ounce of courage I had, I told him that "I think I’m in love with you"...and proceeded to burst into tears. I knew it was genuine at that point, and as terrifying as it was, it felt like the best thing that had ever happened to me.
We talked on the phone every night after that, for hours on end - he went through 500-minute phone cards like matches, but neither of us cared. early into the morning, I would lie on my bed and we would talk about philosophy, or he would tell me stories in his quiet, gentle voice of all the adventures we would have together some day, talking to me until we were both ready to drift off to sleep. It had been impossible not to dream about being together, but by this time we had begun to discuss meeting in person in practical terms. Although he lived almost 10 hours away from me, he arranged to stay with relatives in long island over the summer, and we decided to meet for the first time in my hometown - about 20 minutes outside of Philadelphia - on July 10th, nine months after we first met online.
It was beautiful. we spent our first day together wandering around the city, looking in the record stores and souvenir shops, and eventually going to the park where we laid out on a blanket and hugged each other, marveling at the experience of actually being in each other's arms, as the sun set across the field. Before he dropped me off for the night, he picked me up as we were walking back to the car and held me for about a minute, like a husband carrying his bride across the threshold. It felt like the epitome of every romantic moment in history. That night when we kissed for the first time in his car, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. We saw each other the next day and the day after that...after which point he went back up to long island but not for long.
We saw each other at least 20 times between mid-July and the end of August. Our circumstances were unusual at best; as I still lived with my parents, I was forced to come up with a different excuse every night for where I was going (I couldn't, after all, tell them I was going to see my 30-year-old boyfriend). I suppose it was deceptive of me, but what with the societal norms these days, there wasn't much else I could do. he would drive down from New York to see me every chance he got, but spending the money on a hotel every night was a financial impossibility, and so after he dropped me off at night he would drive around the unfamiliar streets until he found a safe-looking parking lot, and sleep in his car. We fought desperately for every moment we spent together, always slightly paranoid but helplessly in love with each other, as our relationship deepened and grew by the day. We became physically intimate - it was impossible to deny our attraction to each other - and every once in a while we would splurge on a motel room, the only place where we could find at least some measure of privacy.
On the nights when we didn't we would make out for hours in the back seat of his car as his stereo played the cure or the smiths not once did I feel frightened, in danger, or taken advantage of: he was almost impossibly gentle, making sure I was comfortable at every important juncture although sexual experiences were still quite new, and occasionally overwhelming to me, he would always hold me in his arms and whisper to me that I was safe and loved. I can't, for the life of me, imagine being treated better and, of course, it was hardly an exclusively-sexual relationship. we spent days just hanging out at the mall, seeing movies, or eating lunch in the park, laughing and talking and joking around, driving around in his car and listening to music, going to dinner at Japanese restaurants, drinking coffee and smiling secretly at each other across the table until the star buck’s closed at midnight and every night when it was time for me to go home, we kissed goodnight with the knowledge that we had found something truly special.
Eventually, however, we were forced to separate again much as he didn't want to, he had to return to North Carolina to finish his third and final year of law school, and I was off to New York City where I would begin my freshman year of undergrad. Our last night together was incredibly painful, as were the two months that followed; although we talk every night either on the phone or on IMs, we miss each other fiercely and our separation has become almost unbearable at times but regardless of the pain, we hung on desperately to the relationship that we had worked and fought so hard for. Finally, after eight long weeks, he flew up to New York to see me just last Wednesday, October 17th, and we spent four of the best days of our lives together, making out all day in our hotel room and then walking around times square at night, holding hands in public like we couldn't do in my conservative hometown. We spent our first night together (I always had to go home over the summer) and it was an indescribable feeling to wake up in the arms of someone you love more than life itself.
He left yesterday - I was devastated, of course, as the time just seemed to fly by, but I still pull myself through with the knowledge that next summer he'll be moving permanently up to New York city and we'll finally be together permanently...for as long as we want, or forever. It seems almost mind-boggling that my life has taken such an unexpected turn in the past year (it's really been only a year?!) and even more mind-boggling that I seem to have found someone that I was destined to be with. His personality is so uncannily suited to mine, it's as if there's no age difference at all. Neither of us is too mature or too immature; we just meet in the middle. I don't know where I would be without him - he gives me hope, he makes me laugh, he makes me feel beautiful. We plan to spend winter break together, almost a full month just the thought of it makes me smile.
If you had told me a year ago that i would eventually fall madly in love with a 30-year-old law student several states away and with $100,000 in debt, I probably would have laughed. Now, nothing seems unusual to me. Cyber romance, age gap, long distance...I fit into just about every subcategory in the relationship genre and I couldn't be happier.