I’m 21 and I’ve dated an 18 year old. I’ll use the term ‘dated’ very loosely because 18 year old guys don’t do the whole wine and dine thing. And considering I promised to always give you the whole truth in my first post, it’s actually been two 18 year olds. In the space of two months. And somehow typing that out makes me want to rip my eyeballs out.
The first guy is someone I work with (it only gets worse from here!) and I knew he was bad news from the out set. He pursued me for a week straight over Facebook messenger and from his first ‘Hey Babe’ my gut was screaming at me to get out while I could. But the thing is, I hadn’t been on a date in ages and I had just bought a new lace bodysuit that shouldn’t be punished for my very boring dating life, so I thought why not?
I’ll tell you why not ladies. It’s 10 o’clock and I’ve spent two hours blending the crap out of my eyelids using expensive Urban Decay eye shadow and I’m sat staring at my phone waiting for a reply to my 3 messages. Nothing. I wait another hour while the realisation kicks in that I’ve been stood up. For the very first time. By a man child.
You’d think it ends there, but oh no of course not. This bitch goes back for more. He piles me with messages of apology saying his phone wasn’t working and that he had asked everyone we worked with for my number but no one had it. Long story short we kissed in his car one night after work and after I politely declined his fuck buddy invitation, he never spoke to me again.
Which brings me shamefully forward 2 months to ‘T’. T and I romantically met on the dance floor of a sweaty club and fuelled by a bottle of wine, multiple shots and a jug of pimms, I followed him upstairs in the bar for some ‘fresh air’. After falling over and somehow avoiding breaking a bone, he helped me up the stairs after which we had multiple games of tonsil tennis. Now before you start judging me for my poor choice in men, he was very sweet and what he lacked in conversation, he made up for in looks. Seriously, the guy was carved from marble and his arms were huge.
It wasn’t till I was picturing how beautiful our children would be that he managed to slip in that he was 18. I choked on my vodka coke, wondering how I had unwittingly bagged myself yet another teenager. But… I was never going to talk to him again, so who cares? I gave him my number, more out of habit than of any belief he would actually text. Turns out this guy actually likes me. So we message back and forth. A cheeky text here, a winky face there. Which is when I realised those beautiful children will turn out to be a couple of brain cells short.
T is lovely. He’s cute, he’s so gorgeous it hurts my eyes and he actually replies to my messages. But T doesn’t have a whole lot to say and his major hobbies include getting ‘turnt up’ (am I too old to use that expression?). Now I’m not looking for Einstein. In fact, if a guy’s incredibly intelligent it’s also a bit of a turn off. But as much as I wouldn’t want to leave the sheets with T, the fact is, he’s an 18 year old lad who drinks with the other lads in the pub every night and I don’t anything other than footy and sex would ever tickle his interest.
If this all wasn’t enough to deter you from the under 20’s, let me dissuade you further. I have a 24 year old friend who was dating an 18 year old and it was serious enough that she met his friends. Well, imagine her humiliation when he introduced her to a group of teens who are still studying at sixth form. It eventually ended with him avoiding texting her for a week and running off with a girl who was super indie and liked to smoke weed. Kids, eh?