Keeping secrets on November 30, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I’m dating a guy nine years younger than me. The problem is that he doesn’t know how old I am, and I’m scared to tell him. We’ve been dating about seven months now, and I’m beginning to feel guilty because he has started to mention the forever-together word. He has never come straight out and asked me my age, but I do look younger than I am. I really don’t want to tell him because or the past actions past boyfriends have exhibited once I told them my age. I really don’t care that I’m wasting time with somebody who might not accept me for who I am, because I’ve already been married, had long term relationships, and don’t really care about long term or commitment anymore. Do you think I should tell my boyfriend my age?

— Julie

Dear Julie,

Oooh, are you the girl from Felicity?

Regardless, here’s my concern: this hasn’t come up? In seven months? What do you guys talk about? Never mind that he hasn’t outright asked, but it hasn’t just come up? As in, “Actually, I was an infant, so no, I don’t remember what I was doing when John Glenn landed. The first time.” — ? Nothing? For me, that’s the oddest thing going on here.

So I’m guessing that he somehow already knows and doesn’t care, or doesn’t know and doesn’t care. But there is a talk you guys should have, even if it’s not about how many times you’ve been 29. Because if he’s making together-forever noises, and you’re still withholding basic facts — and/because you’re not concerned with long-term commitment — then there’s a gap here that’s not measured in years. You might [by default] lie about your age, but at least act it.

Love,
Breakup Girl

Broken-Hearted Bob returns on November 30, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

Remember me? Mr. Nice Guy. Well here’s my quandary this time.

I have officially changed my major to Fine Arts. And in doing so I go to a different branch of my college that is off campus. At the craft center, the whole place is different — it’s a completely different learning enviroment from the structured regimented classes on the main campus. This environment in turn breeds a completely different type of student. And all of the women there are TOTALLY COOL!! And there is one in particular I’m a bit sweet on. She and I hang out, and we just get along well. I was going to ask her out one day, and then we got to discussing age, my b-day is in a few days, as is hers. I was joking that since I was turning 20 that I would have to “grow up” and “get with the program.” She laughed and said that wasn’t necessarily so. Then I found out that … well, she will be 31 a week or so after I turn 20. Well, that TOTALLY threw a wrench in the works for me. But later we were talking and she asked me if I wanted to go to see “Something About Mary” with her cause she didn’t want to go alone. After the movie she and I went and talked for a while at a coffee house, my idea, then she wanted to get some beer, but my roommates aren’t cool with that so I took a rain check. We’d have gone to her place, but it is a half hour away and she was tired. We continue to talk.

Should I risk the relationship and ask her out, should I just sit on my feelings for her, or should I just go to her and say “Hey what’s up with us?” I have asked some of my more trusted friends and they don’t give me advice, they just kind of make robbin’ the cradle or “The Graduate” jokes. So well I must turn to you, oh great knower of things I don’t quite understand.

— Broken Heart Bob

BG helps an old friend after the jump!

Saving face on November 30, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I met this guy in ICQ, didn’t expect to ever have real feelings, but we do. The thing is I sent him a picture of another person, a knockout! And told him I was 10 years younger than I am. I know I have to tell him the truth, but I just know our friendship will end. He really wants to meet and get to know each other in person. WHAT SHOULD I DO?

— Troubled in Oregon

Dear Troubled,

Oops. Yeah, you kind of do have to own up. And here’s the thing. If he doesn’t want to be friends (or more), I betcha it won’t be because you’re not that X-10 knockout. It would be because your pictures messed around with his feelings. So in order to save face, you’re going to have to speak the thousand words that that picture didn’t: tell him you sent it before those unexpected feelings became real. Now that the feelings are real, so too will you be.

And while you’re at it, ask yourself this: why didn’t you think the true you was young enough, cute enough, brave enough? Next time you meet an IC-QT, don’t send a snapshot until/unless you’re psyched to send the real one.

Love,
Breakup Girl

On the prowl on November 30, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

When I was in my teens, twenties, and thirties, I always dated men quite a bit older than myself (10-20 yrs). Now that I am “older,” I am not attracted to men my age or older. I am attracted to men mostly in their 30’s (sometimes younger). The problem is, even though I feel like their equal agewise, I realize that through their eyes I am probably “old.” If I care about them a lot, I will end up spending money on them (because I enjoy it, and men spent money on me when I was the young one), but what is happening is I am being used. I kind of know it all along, but I enjoy them and care about them and I think I try to believe they are not really using me…although they are. This really hurts me. I am starting to hate myself for not being younger. It is so frustrating when you feel a certain age inside but you’re actually 20 years older than that and no one really understands. I get a lot of flack from my grown children. (They are only a few years younger than the men I seem to choose, and they are horrified at my behavior.) So here I am again, being used and I have to face it and move on, my children are again outraged and embarrassed by me, and for the life of me I cannot feel turned on thinking of a man my age, much less older than I. It’s like I never changed inside since my late twenties. I still feel the same way. I do look good for the age I am, thank God. In fact I probably look 8 or 9 years younger than I am. (The problem is, the men I choose are more like 20 years younger than I am.) Do you think this will pass, or, if it doesn’t, that there are some men who will not use me and will actually feel about me like I do about them? I doubt it, but I thought I’d ask. Also, do you think my kids are justified in coming down so hard on me? They are both married and have families of their own. I put up with their rebelliousness when they were teens, but now it seems they want to parent me. ( They are really stricter on me than I ever was on them.) Is there something wrong with me? Or should I just go get some plastic surgery and a fake ID and move away so no one knows what I’m doing? I’m not ready for the rocking chair yet. Thanks for listening.

— Mad

Dear Mad,

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: the knife is not the answer.

Nor, in your case, is the rocking chair.

The operative metonymy here, I think, is: the fountain of youth. The key here is not strictly that you’re drawn to younger men (I love that Leo, and the RA on Felicity, and I’m not ashamed!), but rather that you “cannot feel turned on thinking of a man [your] age, much less older.” Why? ‘Cause they’re … old? …Like you? Do you see your reflection in them? I know you say you “look good for your age,” but/so again, I ask you: when you date these guys, do you see your “real” age looking back? And when you, in your dotage, dote on younger men, does it make you feel like Girlfriend’s still got it?

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In a relationship, is a big generation gap inherently icky?

My answer: You tell me.

As in: is your age difference an element of the relationship, or is it the defining factor?

Like, is the core draw that he is a George Michaelicious Father Figure? Or that she is super-Mrs. Robinsonic? Or the other way around?

To put it another way: if you two were roughly the same age, would all of the thrill be gone?

Because no, a big age difference is not by definition suspect, unless you are Anna Nicole Smith. Sure, when there’s a True Connection, age difference is downgraded to mere circumstance. And yes, Oedipus and Electra are allowed to play bit parts in your dynamic as a couple.

BUT. Lolita/o is not. AND. When the age gap is the main event, there’s probably something going on there [insert admittedly facile pop-psych blame-the-parents theory] other than — dare I say in place of — actual, equal partnership.

One more useful concept, courtesy of BG’s friend Louise. Depending on what you’re looking for, it’s not how old they are, it’s how donethey are. Done as in cooked. Ready. Steady. As in: sense of self no longer runny. Sense of purpose firm. Toxins [mostly] destroyed in heat of past moments. The key: someone can be warmed through at 25; frozen on the inside at 45. So when in doubt, skip the math; test for doneness.

This week we’ll be looking at the age questions you raised in your letters. Just let me find my reading glasses.

MSN.com, Match.com, HappenMagazine.com: they’re in a healthy and satisfying 3-way relationship. Meaning that you can find MSN/Match.com’s “Ask Lynn” columns –penned by BG’s alter ego — over atHappen now as well.

This week Lynn responds to Lisa, a girl who’s uncomfortable in her skin, to say the least:

I need to lose weight, at least 90 lbs… and I need to do so now. I have trouble accepting my weight and I get the feeling when I meet up with men from the Internet, it’s a big issue.

We all know it’s not that simple — to lose the weight or continue dating without the weight loss. Lynn gets to the heart of the problem, while offering practical suggestions in this weeks letter, which you can check out here. Agree? Disagree? Have your own story? Add a comment below.

Obsessing on November 23, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I’m a very lucky 35 year old guy. Married six months to a wonderful woman (she’s 33). M and I are compatible in all ways, and enjoy each other’s company immensely. We’re from the same small town, went through school together, pleasant friendship, both left town to go to different universities, different lives, different cities, no contact.

M called me out of the blue four years ago. She’s in promotions, I’m in TV, she had a pitch. Pitch failed, met for dinner. I was happily married (I thought) with two kids. Pleasant dinner, promised to keep in touch. Neither did. Two years ago, another call, another pitch. Pitch failed, met for dinner. I was six months single, with two kids living with me Monday to Friday, and weekends with their Mom. M and I agreed to keep in touch. This time, both did. Rapidly progressed to constant companions. Joined at the mind, hip, and soul. Dated eight months, she moved in, assumed and accepted stepmother role, got married six months after that. Very happy.

So what’s the problem? Her past lovers. When we went through that (normal?) stage of discussing/revealing our sexual pasts, she lied about a couple of partners. We discussed it again. And she lied again. We talked about it again, and she lied again. And then again. It complicates matters further that four of her old flames (two serious, two flings) are still in her circle of friends. (A terrific row, by the way, over inviting Mr. Significantly Serious to our wedding. I gave in.) Anyway, this whole issue bothers me to the point of obsessing. (I should say that we have each had 20 + partners, which strikes me as a lot. Is it?)

We have talked and talked and talked about this issue, sometimes heatedly, but always with the intention of understanding each other, and trying to deal with it. Yes, I know that the past cannot be changed. And that I have no right whatsoever to question or criticize decisions she made years and years ago, and I also understand that I have made her feel persecuted at times, and resentful of an attitude that has been, yes, at times, judgmental. It would be easy to explain my feelings as 1) inadequacies (Were they bigger than me? More stamina? More satisfying?) or 2) chauvinistic (good girls don’t -­ except with me). I suppose there is some truth to both.

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Mr. Perfect’s coming home on November 23, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl

Found your site when I had just broken up with a guy I dated for 7 years and it gave me some good laughs along with some good advice, so thank you…

Now I’ve gotten myself into this really weird situation and I’m not quite sure how to get out of it…or if I want to get out of it. After this breakup, I was feeling pretty down in general amd wound up taking comfort in the arms of this incredible guy…we had a little bit of a summer fling…which was actually great, my self esteem got a boost (this boy is beautiful) and I had a great time…then he went back to school (he’s 22, has one semester left at an almost Ivy League school, will be done in December and back in town, I’m 24, working in a big city, real life kinda crap).

Here’s the kicker — I’ve known Mr. Perfect for about 10 years…he happens to be my best friend’s little brother…and we chose not to let my friend in on this little fling because we weren’t sure how she’d react…in fact, our parents are friends with each other, and they have no idea either.

So we had this summer fling, that even had a little snag in it when I went up to visit my friend at their family’s summer house and the three of us spent the entire weekend together and we continued to hide the whole thing…well, we just stayed away from each other…then when we got back, we decided we shouldn’t continue the fling because it was too weird (he’s almost like MY little brother –we used to beat each other up…it was weird for him to look at his sister and difficult for me to look his mother in the eye, considering what I was thinking about her son…).

Well, that lasted about a week, until we went out to lunch and scrapped the idea of staying away from each other…it’s just too much fun…that was in August.

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Changing his tune on November 23, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

Hmm. Wow. This is weird. I never thought I’d actually be writing to you–I mean, like, ever, in a million years. It’s nothing personal–I think it’s just one of those male ego/”of course I know where I’m going, that farmhouse over there looks just like all the others we keep passing at regular 10 minute intervals because we’re in Nebraska–or is it Kansas?–for God’s sake”/”I don’t need your help, I can quit anytime” kinda things. Plus, it’s been quite a long time since I’ve needed any chick-type advice because . . . well, it’s been too long since I’ve, um, been in any kind of position to need any chick-type advice (which, of course, I will elaborate upon further when I’m done with my really long greeting-paragraph-type-thing). So, anyway, commencing with long-formulaic-breakup-girl- “help-me-help-me-I’m-in-such- utter-despair-and-inner-turmoil” letter version 1.0 . . . or .01 . . . or something like that. . . .

You rock. Your column rocks. Your Mom rocks, your dog rocks, your car rocks, etc. etc. (I mean it all sincerely, but I know you get that stuff all the time, and hearing it from me probably won’t send you up to cloud nine or anything–if, on the other hand, it *does*, then, well, I went ahead and said it).

Allow me to quickly tell you about myself (trust me, it’s all relevant–really, it is). I’m a 19 and a half (yes, I count “and-a-half”s) (okay, I’m going to stop it with these parentheses thingies or I’ll never get this letter written) year-old college student. And I’m a transfer student–I’m from down South, went way up North for a year, enjoyed myself, money and stuff like that didn’t quite work out, came back down South to an in-state school and am doing fine. I’m also–okay, prepare yourself–shy. But unlike a lot of shy people, including those among my friends and most of those who have written letters to you, I’m not really embarrassed about my shyness. In fact, I’ve kind of learned to accept it and to be comfortable with it. Maybe this is a little difficult to explain, or maybe I’m just deluding myself or something, but I figure that the world needs shy people just as much as, if not more than, it needs those who are outgoing; were it not for reclusive, creative people, we’d still be living in caves, wearing fig leaves, and competing with the sabertooth tiger next door for our dinner–nothing would ever get done and we’d all be fighting each other and confused all the time. And to me, shyness isn’t a form of “social phobia”; it’s just another way to be, not something that I need to change, something I need to overcome, or something of which I need to be cured. Besides, as Ralph Ellison so succinctly put it, “I yam what I yam.”

But, that said–how, then, does an introvert get along in such an indelibly extroverted society, especially in matters of the heart, without waning completely Invisible?

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This time of year always brings back memories of one of the cooler annual school field trips Noah and I used to take: visiting to the living museum that is Plimoth Plantation. They’ve recreated the Pilgrims’ 1627 settlement, complete with interpretive guides living the lives of actual townspeople and speaking only the dialect of the time.

I should have known this was a bad sign: no matter what you do, you can’t get them to talk about the future.

So, too, may you notice seasonal signs of unrest in your relationship. Perhaps a certain separatism, even Puritanism — dare I say Miles Standoffishness — on the part of your settler? If so, it’s only natural at this time of harvesting, reaping, taking stock, deciding if you’re Taking Him/Her Home (or deciding which friendfriend to take home as a parent decoy). Don’t let it get to you.

But if your relationship truly is on the rocks, do not hold out just for Auld Lang Syne’s sake. (Otherwise known as “sticking it out for the stockings.”) Mark my words:Wishing you were under the mistletoe is better than wishing you weren’t. So if necessary, do the deed. With any luck, your ex-intended will still be groggy from the tryptophan.

And if you’re alone already, well, what can I tell you? Just be thankful you won’t have to hear Breakup Mom say, “We’re just thankful to have you here with us, sweetie. Especially because your father and I aren’t getting any younger. Did you sit with anyone interesting on the train?”

In all seriousness, Breakup Girl is truly thankful for: you. Thanks for visiting, writing, reading, laughing, shopping, and helping make breakups so much fun. I am also endlessly grateful to my trusty behinder-the-scenes pardner, Chris, who not only makes this site pretty, he also makes Breakup Girl exist. As And thanks to Breakup Belleruth — BG.com’s Actual Credentialed Expert in Residence / Someone Else’s Mom — for the generosity and infinitude of her wisdom. Chief Massasoit would have said: mad props.