And despite the age difference and the fact that we disagreed on everything from movies to ideal vacation spots, I felt the same way.
There was something between us that transcended logic.
When I step back and take an objective look at us — he's 26, I'm 48 — I think I must look ridiculous.
Then I remind myself that if it were he who was 20 years older, neither I nor anyone else would think twice, and I realize that I'm falling prey to the same sexism I bemoan.
Imagine my surprise then when, over beers, I casually mentioned my kids and was immediately overcome by the desire to pull the words back into my mouth.
My chagrin made me realize that, at least on a subconscious level, I was interested in him. A few days later, he sent me a message saying he missed me. We meandered to a nearby hotel to check out the rooftop bar there.
We kissed for the first time on a snow-carpeted Red Square and, after we got married, lived in Hong Kong and London before moving back to the U. for what I thought would be a temporary period of career-building before we set off on more adventures. The adrenaline rush of living in the midst of political instability distracted me from my personal turmoil.