I'd gone on enough dates that didn't lead anywhere—often with much more age-appropriate matches than Mike—and I just didn't see the point in pretending we were something we weren't.
Things changed one night over beers at a favorite local bar when I finally said what I was afraid of: I was worried I'd screwed up my life, and that it was too late to change it.
Mike's eyes widened—and then he started revealing some deep stuff about himself, too.
Unfortunately for me, rather than disapproving, they think it's hilarious.
"I'll put some Doobie Brother on, of course you remember the Doobie Brothers, Phil! And "it's almost 9.30, time you were off to bed old fella".
I knew that the guests at the party were going to be younger than me; I work as an occupational therapist at a hospital and most of the coworkers I'm closest with are the ones in their 20s and early 30s.
Three years ago, Mike and I met at a coworker's engagement party.
He would ask me to one-on-one dinners and drinks, and I'd suggest casual after-work beers instead.
I was pretty sure I was going to spend the rest of my life alone, and I'd made my peace with that.
For the next six months, Mike and I were just friends.